Primary Care
by fluffy2001
Summary: Prompt 94 for chasefest on livejournal. Takes place after Merry Little Christmas. House is ordered into physican supervised treatment after the OD. He demands a new doctor, and picks Chase.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n: This is for chasefest on livejournal, prompt 94. I'm not sure how many chapters this will be, but at least five. **

**Here is the prompt: _House finally gets fed up with Wilson's and Cuddy's cavalier attitude about his pain and wants Chase to be his new doctor. I've been playing with this idea set post-"Top Secret", but after reading "ICU" ( last night, I'm thinking post-"No Reason" would be a good time too (great way to avoid an awkward conversation: no pain - no need for drugs - no need to explain to Wilson why he's not asking for refills). Story prompt: How would "Meaning"/"Cane and Able" and the Tritter arc have gone differently if Chase had been House's official physician at the time?_**

**I have never been happy the way Cuddy and Wilson both dealt with House and his pain issues during that entire Tritter mess, so I took on this "what if?" scenario. It takes place immediately after Merry Little Christmas. In this fic, Chase refuses to enable, but he won't force House's hand either. No slash, but there is a physical exam in chapter two! **

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The stench of rotting pine needles waffled through the lobby, a blatant reminder of their bleak contribution to the usually dismal holiday season. _Always happens between Christmas and New Years._ Despite his miserable mood, a smell of decay played a small part in calming House. Without it, things didn't seem right.

"You're early," Cuddy said perplexed as House walked in unusually punctual. After summoning him, she was certain he would do everything in his power to delay his arrival. After all, that is what power struggles are all about.

He gave her a pitiful smirk and took a seat. Since Wilson sat solemnly on the couch opposite him, his suspicion as to why he was beckoned was confirmed. The fact that Wilson refused to make eye contact reinforced that he took the coward's way out of dealing with the problem. House ignored him, not wanting to be bothered with him today.

Cuddy pursed her lips in an annoyed frown and took her place behind the desk where a file sat open. House immediately recognized the department letterhead. Documents from the pharmacy.

"You've, gone too far." She wringed her hands in frustration, wishing there was a better way to put it, but she couldn't find it. House openly gazed at her with a piercing glare, saying nothing to defend himself.

"You're not going to deny it, make up some lie, attempt to weasel your way out of this or brush it off completely?" Cuddy's exasperated tone clued him in to how upset she was over this.

"Nope." House looked meekly at her, waiting to see what she would do next.

"You stole oxycodone from Wilson's dead patient and almost OD'd on it? You know how much easier my life would have been if that had happened?" She stopped herself from ranting further, remembering that no matter what she said it wouldn't do much good. "Suicide is so beyond you House."

"It wasn't a suicide attempt. I wanted the pain to go away."

"It never does though, does it?" She let out a deep breath to calm herself, making sure he next ultimatum was delivered with the right amount of authority. "Wilson can't help you anymore, so it's left up to me. As your doctor, I'm putting you on a medically supervised pain management program. You are required to follow the plan to the strictest detail. If you don't, you'll be fired."

"Oh, what an incentive," House deadpanned. "No, no, not my job. Whatever will I do?"

Cuddy wasn't about to let his sarcastic remark break her resolve. "That's not all. If you don't comply, Wilson and I turn will over all our evidence to the police that will assure your conviction and subsequent loss of license."

"No you won't." House said, calling her bluff. After a few seconds of staring Cuddy down, he saw her determined eyes, rigid posture, folded arms, and no signs of her backing down this time. He glimpsed over to a guilty Wilson, whose head was hung low, telling him that Wilson could likely follow through with the threat as well.

House backed away from Cuddy, dropped his head, and took time to mull over his options, bouncing the cane in a fast rhythm to jog his mind. He needed to come up with a way to get out of this. A tiny smile cracked on his face when something hit him.

"No. You've been my doctor too long, and I haven't gotten better. The pain has gotten worse, and all you do is insinuate that it's all in my head. I don't trust your treatment options will be in my best interest."

Cuddy wasn't buying this latest stunt. "You ARE going on a treatment plan, and you can't be your own doctor."

"I want another doctor."

Cuddy's eyes widened and she and Wilson shared a glance of surprise. "You actually would trust another doctor to handle your care?"

"No, but since you aren't giving me a choice, what else can I do?"

Cuddy paused to assess his proposal, watching him carefully. She suspected it was another one of his tricks, and couldn't let him do it without ground rules. "Okay, I'll agree with conditions."

"What sort of conditions?"

"The doctor you choose has to be on staff in this hospital. That person is required to give me frequent reports to your progress, and will take instructions from me, not you."

House nodded in full agreement. It was all part of the game. Give her an inch, let her feel in control.

Cuddy dropped her arms, softening her harsh stance. "Just let me know who you decide."

"Chase." House blurted.

Cuddy gasped in shock, while Wilson sat up in attention, giving him eye contact now. "You'd actually want to give a member of your team that type of control?" Wilson said.

"He's an Intensivist. Managing pain and discomfort is what he does best."

Wilson was too suspicious. He knew a House stunt when he saw one. "You can push him around."

Cuddy saw otherwise. "I don't know. All his staff are pretty scared right now about losing their license, so I think any of them would watch their steps carefully. None of them are willing to go down with you."

"Great," House replied, unenthusiastic but ready to get on with the plan.

Wilson, after running the idea quickly through his mind, began to warm up to the idea. "Wait, no this might be good. He's still got a fresh bruise on his face and a world of disillusionment. I don't think he'll give you what you want. If anything, he might want to make you suffer."

Cuddy watched House carefully to see if he would give up his motive. Nothing happened. "Chase does have the background and skill to deal with unique situations, and it doesn't get more unique than this. Are you sure you're willing to give him that type of access to your personal medical history?"

"No more than anyone else."

Cuddy slowly nodded, narrow eyes still glaring at him. "Okay, I'll allow it."

"Great, I'll let him know." House turned for the exit.

"No so fast," Cuddy said, stopping him cold. "I'll talk with him. As of right now, I'm temporarily his supervisor. All instructions are coming from me."

"Are we done?" House had enough of this time wasting conversation.

"Get out of here." House left quickly, not willing to experience any more wrath. Cuddy looked at Wilson with worry while letting out a deep breath. She leaned over and pressed the intercom on her phone.

"Yes Dr. Cuddy?" The voice asked on the other side.

"Tell Dr. Chase to come to my office."

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Cameron and Foreman finally tracked House down. They had to know why Chase was taken away from the tests on their patient by a summons from Cuddy. They knew House was involved. Both found a curious House sitting outside of Cuddy's office, watching the action inside.

"What are you up to?" Cameron asked.

"What's Chase doing with Cuddy and Wilson, and why doesn't he look very happy?" Foreman asked, more interested in what House was watching than House himself.

"No reason."

"Is he in trouble?" Cameron asked with deep concern, eyes fixed now on the same scene that Foreman watched.

"Worried? Come on, he's the competition. Now that he's out of the way, your job gets easier."

"Wait a minute, what do you mean now that he's out of the way?" Foreman's voice tinged more with outrage than concern.

"Chase for the meantime doesn't work for me."

Cameron and Foreman looked exasperated. Before he could deal with their demanding questions, Chase stormed out of the office. He came up to House, looking down at him with a deep scowl. "Exam Room 3 in one hour."

"Yes doc," House said. Chase left, almost banging into a nurse during his brisk exit down the hall.

Cuddy and Wilson joined the group. "Would someone please tell us what's going on?" Cameron demanded.

"My office everyone," Cuddy ordered. "We have some changes to discuss."

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The file from records was already waiting for him when he got there. Sure, a personal command from Cuddy was likely to spark such quick action, but he also suspected the clerk knew exactly where to find House's files. Given how thick and well maintained they were, they would be hard to miss.

The clerk did her best to avoid hysterical laughter when Chase arrived. It was already in the system that he was the new primary care physician. Her wide eyes wished him all the luck in the world.

Chase found a quiet place to get started, an empty office the size of a janitor's closet. No, a janitor got more space than that. It was a small desk crammed in between four walls. There was barely enough room for him to inch around it. It would do, for Cameron, or Foreman, or even House wouldn't think to track him down there.

He sat in front of the files, having no idea where to begin. The beginning seemed like the best place, but he found the notes really took off nine years ago. Other than a twisted knee, House had no other prior health problems before the infarction.

As he scanned through the mountains of treatment notes, Chase began to wonder why he was personally chosen for this task. Part of him didn't want to know, but that prodding problem solver in him needed to work it through. Cuddy told him House requested a new doctor and threw out his name without hesitation. That was the fun about House, while one would like to believe there was a reason behind everything he did, sometimes that reason was so deeply buried no one could figure it out.

Chase didn't believe that House thought he was the better doctor, and by now House had to think that he couldn't say no to him. Chase had absolutely nothing to gain by saying yes to House. He had nothing to gain by saying no either, which sandwiched him in the middle of a no win situation. Maybe that's why House picked him. One thing had always been certain, he was House's favorite target for torture.

Chase sunk his forehead into his hand and closed his eyes, hoping to calm his racing mind. Thinking in circles like this was only making matters worse. He was going to have to pretend he was seeing this patient for the first time and present an objective and creative plan. It was the only way he could treat him successfully.

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"Why Chase?" The chill in Cameron's voice as she burst into House's office was a mixture of contempt and hurt. "Don't tell me he's pretty either, because he's not your type."

House reeled back when she said that. Damn, she took away his smart answer. "I don't need to give an explanation to someone whose poor wittle feelings are hurt."

"You're feeling guilty because you hit him."

"You're jealous because he solved the case."

"You know you can push him around and he'll give you anything you want."

"He's not an uptight bitch that will challenge everything I say, and he won't give me everything I want because he's not dumb. Stupid maybe, but dumb no. Good enough reasons for you?"

"This better not be some kind of joke. He deserves better."

House broke into an annoying laughter. "You don't give a rat's ass about his well being."

"I care."

House laughed again. "Oh, it's the Allison Cameron double answer. Exactly who do you care about? If you must know, I don't need my hand held. I need a creative thinker, someone who isn't going to see my case as routine and boring or someone who will pity me. You think you and Foreman can do that?"

"I can think outside the box." Her arms were folded and a pout formed around her lips.

"You and Foreman quietly dance along the edges of the box, when you're pushed. Otherwise you're standing right in the center, where it's safe. Chase is never in the box, only glancing at it from outside questioning its relevance. You were the one screaming at Wilson a few days ago over what's best for me. Now that you don't get to be involved, all of a sudden it's not good enough?"

Cameron had enough of being berated. "You know, you're right. Creative options are best, because you can't stand to be properly fixed. You're only happy when you're broken." She stormed out of the office.

"Yeah, well it takes one to know one!" He shouted to her back.

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"Chase!" Cameron shouted down the hall after finally spotting him coming out of the locker area. She ran up to him.

Chase rolled his eyes and waited for her to catch up. He knew she would track him down. He just hoped it could wait until tomorrow, or at least until after he had his initial consult with House. "I'm tired Cameron."

"Why did you accept this?"

"I wasn't exactly given much of a choice. Besides, despite my feelings, I'm likely the only one that can help him."

"No one can help him."

"You're probably right, but considering the Dean of Medicine and Head of Oncology failed and told me I had to do it, I'll be in good company should I fail."

"I can help you," she pleaded, before dropping her eyes, hoping not to seem too eager. "That is, if you want help."

"Thanks, but I better do this alone. There's a lot of legalities involved now and it could get messy. You don't want to be a part of it."

"I can recommend treatment options, if anything give you someone to bounce ideas off of."

Chase smiled, the greenish bruise on his jaw line hurting slightly by such a simple facial movement. He knew she was doing this because she was nosy and controlling, but he still liked the way she tried to manipulate. He found it endearing. "I'll keep that in mind." He headed on, needing to get to the exam room.

"I'll be around if you need anything."

Sure you will, Chase thought. Now that he was House's primary physician, Cameron would be all over him. Forget about House being the problem, he was going to get trouble from all sorts of places.


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n: Thank you everyone for such an overwhelming response to this fic. I really had no idea anyone would like this. I hope chapter two delivers. In this one, Chase performs the exam. **

**This is turning out to be a substitute for Words and Deeds. That makes me happy, since I've always hated that episode. Happy reading**

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House stood outside the exam room, hand on the doorknob, actually surprised that he was hesitating. What was his problem? This was the perfect idea. All he did was pick another enabler to help him. Eventually, Chase would fail, just like Cuddy and Wilson, and he could get on with having his way. Still, something didn't feel right about this plan. He thought about Chase's behavior lately, especially with the Tritter mess. What if Chase was actually growing that backbone? What would he do?

He pushed back his stray thoughts, opened the door and shuffled slowly into the exam room. Chase sat at the desk, his nose in what was obviously his thick medical history. Chase didn't look up or acknowledge him.

"You want me to drop my pants, turn my head and cough?" House joked.

"Have a seat. I'll be with you in a minute." Chase's head stayed buried in the files.

"There's nothing interesting in there you know." House said, taking his place on the exam table.

"Tell me about it."

While Chase made him wait, House passed the time by kicking his legs loudly against the table and whistling some unrecognizable tune. When that got no reaction, he cracked his knuckles, and then patted the tops of his thighs with his hands like they were bongos. Chase never flinched.

Eventually, Chase got up and walked over to his new patient, file in hand. "So, anything about your current condition you'd like to share?"

"I hurt."

"Where does it hurt?"

An amused smile grew on House's face. "Oh, I see how you're going to play it. You're pretending to be the big grown up doctor. My right leg hurts Dr. Chase. That's why I have this thing called a cane. I also have this nagging headache, but it seems to go away when Cuddy is not around."

"On a pain scale of one to ten, how bad would you say the pain is?"

"Eleven."

Chase nodded and wrote down some notes in the chart without showing any reaction. "Any other problems?"

"Oh, where do I begin?"

Chase still didn't react to the wisecracking, determined to keep up the professional facade. "I'm going to start with a routine physical. We need to see what the long term Vicodin usage is doing to your body." Chase pulled over the equipment tray, and started checking House's pupils with the light pen.

"How about pretending that you're examining a doctor that knows exactly what's wrong with him? That might save us some trouble."

"I'm not blindly writing a prescription. A doctor such as yourself should know how irresponsible that is." Chase put the light pen down and went for the stethoscope. He placed it on the House's upper back. "Breathe in."

House did as instructed, then exhaled with a sigh that expressed his boredom. "Aren't you going to ask why I picked you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"The answer doesn't matter." Chase wrote more in the chart. "Your breath sounds are a little weak." He went over to the opposite wall to fetch a sphygmomanometer.

House watched Chase's brooding expression while the young doctor went on to check his BP, fitting him with the cuff, putting stethoscope in the fold of his arm, and pumping the inflation bulb. The healing bruise along the side of Chase's face was the only thing that stood out more than his mope. "You aren't the least bit curious?"

"Stop talking, I'm trying to listen to your BP."

"You still haven't answered my question."

Chase finished the reading, released the screw value to deflate the cuff, and removed the stethoscope from his ears. "You didn't want to know if I betrayed you or not, so I don't want to know why you've chosen me for your personal torture. This is my job and I'm doing it."

House looked at Chase carefully while he removed the cuff from his arm, trying to read what was really going on in his mind. "You're still mad I hit you."

Chase didn't respond and wrote more results in the chart. House began flicking his tongue against his teeth, making an irritating sound, but stopped when he found it got no reaction. "I said I was sorry."

"Uh, no, you didn't." Chase put the chart down and went back to the exam. "Have you been sleeping well lately?"

"No."

"Dizziness, nausea, vomiting, constipation?"

House nodded. "Two nights ago."

"What happened?"

"I overdosed on Oxycodone."

Chase showed no reaction and picked up the chart again. "How many did you take?"

"I went through an entire bottle in six hours."

Chase scribbled down the new information.

House was growing tired of the stoic routine. "No speeches about how reckless I was?"

"Like you said, you're a doctor. I don't need to tell you."

"I could have died you know."

"Yeah, but you didn't. Any lethargy, mood changes, anxiety, dysphoria?"

"In that order?"

"Any pain while urinating?"

"Only when Wilson is there."

Chase still didn't react, writing more in the chart. "Do you drink alcohol, especially when taking medication?"

"Isn't that a prescription for death?" House mocked. Chase continued to stare, waiting for a proper answer. He didn't get one.

"You're trying to prove my addiction to opiates."

"Among many other issues." Chase walked back to the desk, and began wildly writing.

"That better be my Vicodin prescription."

"I'm ordering a battery of tests. We are going to test renal and liver function, check thyroid, blood gasses, CBC, get a tox screen, perform a full spectrum of pulmonary function and cardiac stress tests, and.." Chase paused trying to remember what else to do.

"I'm surprised you didn't order a CAT scan or MRI."

Chase nodded. "Those too."

"And you're performing all these tests?"

"Every one. I know how results get compromised in your case."

House got up. "Okay, how about tomorrow? I just need a fresh supply of pills and I'll be on my way."

"Not so fast. There are a few tests I need to run now so I know it's safe to prescribe such a strong drug." Chase handed him a urine sample cup. "I'm also sending a nurse in here to draw blood. A new one started today. She needs the practice."

House grinned at his devilish approach. That was exactly what he would have done if the situation was reversed. "Is that all?"

"No, there's one other test I must do now. If there is an obvious problem, I can't write that prescription."

"No," House protested, knowing exactly what test that was. "You wouldn't."

Chase maintained a serious face. "It's either me, or would you prefer Cameron or Foreman? Maybe Cuddy? Wilson?"

House pondered his choices. "I do not have an enlarged prostate."

Chase continued his stare, letting him know the subject would not be dropped.

"This is a dream come true for you, isn't it?"

Chase maintained his composure.

House dropped his shoulders in defeat. "Fine, you do it." He took down his pants and leaned forward on the table.

Chase put on a glove and grabbed some gel. "This will feel a little uncomfortable."

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House wasn't at all surprised that Chase made him wait in the exam room until the tests were all done. He could have left, and Chase probably counted on him doing so, but it got him out of having to deal with Cuddy, so he stayed. He was feeling pretty edgy anyway, so it was best he avoided people. He was long overdue for his latest dose, and the anxious feeling was hitting him hard.

The exam was what he expected, but then again, it wasn't. Chase was doing what any normal doctor would do. He hated normal doctors and thought Chase was above that. If he wanted the routine exam, he would have appointed Foreman. Still, he knew why Chase was doing it. After all, he was the one that put Chase in the situation of having to separate feelings for his mentor/father figure from his job. Chase was the only doctor though he knew other than himself that could do that.

His wandering thoughts were broken when Chase entered the room. House took the slip of paper handed to him. "One Vicodin every four hours for three days?"

"That should tide you over until we get all the tests done."

"You know that isn't enough."

"It's enough to dull the pain. It's better than none at all."

House felt the building agitation burst from within. He scrunched the unsatisfactory prescription in his hand. "Do you think I'm an addict?"

"I don't know enough to make that conclusion. I know that since you've been taking Vicodin for years, your body has likely stopped producing endorphins and is letting the opiates do so instead."

"Don't give me that doctor crap. You've known me for a while now. Do you think I'm an addict?"

Chase maintained his confident demeanor. He wasn't letting House browbeat him this time. "What I think isn't relevant."

House took a step toward Chase, towering over him, his blue eyes piercing through in contempt. "You can't give me an answer because you don't like rocking the boat. The ACOA council says so. Don't trust, don't feel, don't talk. Know how to fix the situation? Give me the damn drugs so I can function, and we both can go on without upsetting our normal lives."

"You put me in this position! How can I not deal with the elephant in the room?" Chase replied with raised voice. "Placating my entire life has gotten me really far. Except I can't do it this time, can I?"

"You have options."

"No, you're the one with options. Ones you won't take because you're too stubborn or too scared. I'm doing what any responsible physician would do. If you don't like it, go back to Cuddy."

Both men glared at each other, both delivering the message that the other wasn't about to back down. After a long pause, House relented first. "Fine." He whipped open the exam room door and left in a brisk walk.

Chase took several seconds to pull himself together. He felt bad about letting House get the better of him, but if that is what was needed to deliver the message, then he would accept his behavior. He took in a deep breath and left the exam room. The next few days were going to be difficult.

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"I'm surprised you let me help," Cameron said in the MRI booth, going through the scans.

"I admit I had an ulterior motive," Chase replied with a mischievous grin.

"Hey Cameron, I bet now that you've seen my irresistible scar tissue, you're more in love with me than ever!" A voice from the MRI tube shouted.

"Stop talking House," Cameron instructed through the microphone. "You'll ruin the scan."

Cameron pursed her lips while looking at Chase. "You brought me in so he could make snide comments at me?"

Chase shrugged. "Actually, I was hoping you both would throw snide comments at each other. These tests have been pretty boring."

Cameron frowned in disapproval, but went on anyway. "How have the tests been going?"

"Nothing that I didn't expect."

"So what does that mean?"

"It means I'll offer him a long-term pain management regiment and he won't like it. Cuddy will force him, and it'll fail miserably."

Cameron silently agreed with that observation. "Why do you think he picked you?"

Chase shook his head, eyes still fixed on the scan. "The reason doesn't matter."

"I say he's doing it to make you look bad."

"I've worked for the man for three years. How worse can I look? No, he's probably doing it to screw with Cuddy. I'm just his punching bag."

Cameron stopped what she was doing and turned to face Chase. "You don't have to put up with his crap you know. You're a better doctor than this."

Chase scoffed. "Oh your concern is so touching. You know how it works. We do what our superiors tell us to do and make sure we still have a job in the end. If I fail, I'm no different than the others. If I succeed, I look good. I can't lose here."

Cameron wasn't buying it. "You actually think you can't lose? This situation has disaster written all over it."

"Not for me."

Cameron shook her head. "You don't mean that. That's your survival instinct talking."

"Hey Cameron, can I see your insides next? I want to see what makes up that stone cold heart of yours." House shouted from the MRI tube.

Cameron rolled her eyes. "Can't lose, huh?"

Chase grumbled while they went back to the scan. He wanted to examine her stone cold heart too.

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**a/n: Next chapter, the plot really starts to thicken as House must start following doctor's orders. **


	3. Chapter 3

**a/n: This chapter is considerably longer than the other two. Enjoy!**

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Chase peered through the glass to see Cuddy wave him in while she was having an intense discussion on the phone. He opened the door and mouthed that he could come back, but she shook her head and gestured him in again.

The door closed behind him and he waited patiently in front of it until she was finished. His eyes shifted around the room, for he didn't want to give the impression he was listening to the conversation. He felt deep sympathy for the person getting the tongue lashing on the other end. No one should have to incur Cuddy's wrath. Sadly, he suspected that was exactly why he was there.

A minute later she slammed the phone receiver down. She looked up at Chase, noticing his uncomfortable position by the door. "Please, have a seat."

Chase sat down and adjusted his green and pink striped tie. The colorful artifact from his wardrobe wasn't going save him from Cuddy's prickly mood.

"What the hell is this?" Cuddy asked, opening up the file he had sent her.

_Here it comes. _"I know it's not conventional, but this is House we're dealing with."

"You're keeping him on Vicodin?"

"A reasonable amount of Vicodin, for the time being. The goal is to slowly wean him off of it and onto something safer. We already know his disastrous results with detox."

"He fails in detox because he won't stick to a long term plan."

"Him and eighty percent of other habitual drug users. New studies are coming out all the time showing that out of control cravings for drugs or alcohol are caused by out of balance neurotransmitters to the brain. His problem is physical, not psychological."

"Those studies are still inconclusive. They are still a long way from determining how or why that happens, and how to treat it."

Chase shifted his position in his seat, leaning backward and relaxing a bit more to come across as less defensive. Luckily he had already worked on how he was going to justify his thinking. Cuddy was not going to be the first to grill him about this. "There are new experimental treatments all the time. This is the type of stuff House would go for."

Cuddy's elbows dropped to the desk and she swiped her forehead with her hand. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "In the meantime, House goes to pretrial over abusing opiates. If he doesn't get clean, the mandatory drug test will show it. I would think you of all people wouldn't want to see his career end."

"As long as the Vicodin shows on his test at reasonable levels, I can easily prove the need, especially when it's coupled with a full spectrum of other pain management options."

Cuddy glanced at the file again, skimming through the keywords of the proposed plan. "Physical therapy, brain stimulation, acupuncture? Are you serious?"

"Very."

Cuddy took in a deep sigh. She questioned why she ever agreed to this. "I should have guessed that in the end he would find a way to get what he wants."

"What he wants is to keep drugging himself until there is no more pain. I won't allow that. However, his body has built up too much of a tolerance for Vicodin. That must be treated along with the pain issues." Before Chase could finish his polished defense, his pager went off. He grabbed it from his belt clip, checked the message, and put in back.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Cuddy asked.

"It's House. He's says he's dying. I've been getting those every fifteen minutes."

Cuddy cracked a small smile, then hid it. She knew that House tactic all too well. "He won't go for this."

"Maybe not. I think it makes more sense than any other option he's been given."

She nodded, agreeing with that point. "Do you think he'll stick with it?"

"He'll give it a couple of days, just to prove to me it won't work. Then he'll start berating me until I give him back the amount of pills he wants while not following through with his options."

Cuddy's face sank a little, for she couldn't argue with that point either. "So what will you do when that happens?"

"Nothing."

Her expression turned livid. "Nothing?!"

"He's a grown man, capable of making his own decisions. I'm not the babysitter, or the enforcer. I'm there to make recommendations."

"You're willing to let him hang himself?"

"It's my experience that you can't change people."

Cuddy was at a loss, stammering to respond. Sure, House was stubborn, but he couldn't be left to his own devices. "He's going to come running back to me you know."

"Probably. It's your decision as to how you handle it."

"Chase, what we do with him is very important. He saves lives."

Chase sat straight up and leaned forward, delivering his next words with conviction. "What good is him saving other people's lives when he can't save his own? He doesn't save lives for the greater good. He does it for the puzzle. If that isn't there, he doesn't give a damn whether anyone lives or dies, including himself. We can't always be giving him a puzzle to solve."

"That's why we need to help him."

"Treating him like a child isn't helping. He needs to make his own choices. If he chooses the wrong path, that's his decision. It's not our place to change that."

"So, we just let him make his own choices?"

"Yes."

Cuddy felt an overwhelming surge inside her. She needed more time to absorb what Chase was saying. Letting House self-destruct was something she always tried to avoid. Maybe that was the only option left. "Okay," she replied with a nod. "Thanks for updating me."

Chase respectfully got up and headed out.

"Wait," Cuddy said, stopping him from leaving. "I have one more question for you. Do you think he's an addict?"

Chase's eyes fell to his feet. "I can't answer that."

"Why not?"

"Because that question can't be answered." Chase calmly opened the door and left, leaving Cuddy to ponder what that response really meant.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"We could have met in my office you know," House said as he entered the room that was the size of the janitor closet. No, a janitor closet was usually bigger than this. "It's cruel to make a cripple come all the way down here."

"Because your office is neutral ground, right?" Chase sharply answered, the thick files in front of him on the desk.

"How'd you even get behind that desk?" House examined the thin crack separating the edge of the desk and the wall.

"How are you feeling today?" Chase asked, ignoring House's attempts at diversion.

"Cranky, unfocused, fatigued, no thanks to you."

Chase opened the file, waiting patiently for House to take a seat. Once he did, Chase scratched the back of his head, preparing himself for the obvious bit of news he was about to deliver. "Look, this is the part where I tell you what you already know and you pretend to listen. Hold all acid wit and insults until the end."

House settled back into his seat, looking uninterested. "You're already starting to sound like Wilson."

Chase flashed him a quick glare, repeating the ground rules with his eyes. "Fine, I'll behave."

Chase looked back down at his notes and continued. "The Vicodin hasn't been doing your body any favors. The amount found in your system would have killed any other human being."

"And you haven't figured out by now I'm no normal human being?"

"That amount would have killed Superman actually." Chase stopped himself and bit his tongue. He was breaking his own rule. "There's one fact I need to get out in the open first. Your pain can never be eliminated. Anything I've come up with will only manage it."

House opened his mouth, ready to fire a snide comment, but Chase's glare stopped him.

"Your test results showed evidence of depressed respiration, mild renal insufficiency and liver toxicity, plus there are the overall health issues caused by the disturbed sleep, constipation, depression, and the other nasty side effects such as loss of sex drive. I'm not even going to mention the worst problem, which is you need this drug to function. Vicodin as a sole source of pain relief is no longer an option."

Chase paused, watching House carefully for any type of reaction before going on. Surprisingly, he was still listening. "The Vicodin use must be scaled back and replaced with other options."

House rolled his eyes, acknowledging that Chase wasn't telling him anything he hadn't heard before. "I know, physical therapy, deep brain stimulation, new derivatives of narcotics. Nerve blockers won't work since the long term pain has already set in, blah blah blah."

"You forgot other alternative options. Acupuncture, chiropractic adjustments, massage therapy, prolotherapy…"

"Injecting cod liver oil into my damaged muscle is not my idea of a rousing good time."

Chase nodded. "Maybe not. You have no ordinary case here though, probably because you've worked hard to make sure nothing about you is ordinary."

House looked disinterested over anything he had to say. He knew they had to go through this little show to satisfy Cuddy, but he didn't have to like it. Or do anything about it.

"Anyway, the pain is only half of your problem," Chase said. "I found a glaring error in your medical history. So far is that no one has acknowledged that you have another serious physical problem."

House sat up, giving Chase his full attention now. He was annoyed by Chase's long pause. "Well, I'm waiting."

"Your brain chemicals are out of balance, causing intense drug cravings and a heightened dependency on pain relievers. Your MRI showed reduced activity in the prefontal cortex."

House nodded. "So rational though can't override impulsive behavior."

"Exactly. Based on some studies done recently regarding brain scans of chemically dependent patients, those that had similar brain scans had a ninety percent chance of relapse after detox. The imbalance is the condition we must treat."

House looked at him with a combination of skepticism and wonder. He had to give him credit, this was an interesting approach. "Cuddy okayed this?"

"It's not her call. Recent studies have shown anti-epilepsy drugs like Vigabatrin to be effective in treating excessive need for substances in the brain. Also, as the Vicodin is reduced, less dopamine in the synapses will help as well. There's a study going on in this hospital right now that experiments with various neurotransmitters to see which is most effective in reducing drug cravings. Give me the word and I'll get you enrolled."

Chase didn't really expect an enthusiastic reaction, but he expected some type of reaction. Even an angry outburst would be welcomed. Instead, House's blank stare left him feeling more uncomfortable than any other response. He wasn't at all sure what was going through his mind right now.

"Any…questions?"

"Nope."

Chase cracked an incredulous smile, realizing what was going on. "You're running through ways in your head as to how to score more drugs."

"Pretty much."

Chase leaned back, trying his best not to let his frustration show, instead pretending to be cavalier. "It's your choice."

House glared at him, trying to guess what he was up to. Chase was always a puzzle he couldn't completely solve. "Reverse psychology?"

"Common sense. I'm not your mother."

"Thank heavens for that. Although, you are prettier."

Chase let a slight laugh slip. He couldn't resist House's jokes, even at his expense. "Just fair warning, I have to submit to the court weekly drug test results. If there are excessive amounts of Vicodin in your system, it shows. I'm trusting you to exercise caution."

"If I go down, so does your precious job."

Chase shrugged. "I can't control that, can I?"

House smiled, showing his approval over that answer. "Okay, we'll try it your way."

_Hmm, he said 'try'. I guess that's better than nothing._ "Okay, I'll make some referrals. I'm assuming I send people to Cameron for scheduling."

"That would be great."

They shared an awkward moment of silence, both wondering what to do next. "Uh, can I go now?" House asked.

"Sure," Chase said with an uncertain voice, not understanding why House was asking permission.

House nodded, keeping a blank expression on his face, and left without saying a single word.

Chase sighed and dropped his head to the desk in discouragement. He didn't take that silence to be a good sign. An insult would have left him with a better feeling. House was definitely planning something.

-----------------------------

This was not one of his better days. Actually, it was doomed from the start. Rising from a night of restlessness and intense pain was a near impossible task, but he needed relief. It wasn't just the leg. His mind was lost in a deep fog, and his tolerance depleted. Yesterday hadn't been easy, but today was unbearable.

House threw open Cuddy's office door. Despite his angry entrance, Cuddy calmly ignored him.

"You win," he told her, head hung low.

"Win what?"

"You can be my doctor again."

"Aww, what's the matter? Things didn't turn out like you planned? Feeling a little edgy?"

"Go ahead, make fun."

"I shouldn't be making fun. I should be congratulating you for finding a doctor that actually has good solutions for your well being."

House threw his head back in disgust. "Those weren't solutions. Those were options orchestrated by you to finally gain control of me. It isn't working."

"For your information, I had nothing to do with the plan. I even tried to change Chase's mind and it didn't work. I see now that he was right."

"Some doctor. I'm in pain."

"The pain will never go away. How about keeping your appointments? I'm sure a chiropractor, massage therapist, or acupuncturist can work you in. How about relaxation techniques? Have you taken your Vigabatrin?"

"That stuff makes me drowsy and gives me an awful headache, plus it doesn't work fast enough."

"Are you sure that isn't the Vicodin withdrawal? Why don't you go talk with your doctor?"

"He's ignoring my pages."

"Gee House, why could that be? Maybe because he's refusing to deal with a raving lunatic that wants to browbeat him rather than work with him? If you want relief, stop acting like a bully and go work with your doctor like a grownup."

"You knew when you first delivered the ultimatum that treatment wasn't going to work!" The anger inside him jumped on like it was controlled by a light switch. He was getting tired of the intense moods.

"No, you set it in your mind that it wasn't going to work, just like you always have. Your plan backfired this time. You put someone in charge who actually came up with a plan that makes sense and won't cause you an egregious amount of pain. But no, you don't want to do it because it involves stepping in the precious middle ground you so love to avoid."

House and Cuddy stared each other down, before House fired one last look of spite. "I'm wasting my time here." He stormed away.

Cuddy sank into the chair behind her desk and buried her head in her hands. She thought about calling Chase and telling him to fix this, but she fought the urge. Chase was right. House was going to have to accept his consequences.

----------------------------------

"Chase." He turned around, knowing that voice all too well. It was tinged with frantic concern, so he had to know what this was about. Luckily he was in between clinic patients.

"Please, House needs your help," Cameron pleaded.

"I've given him all that he needs to get through this. He won't follow through."

"He tried to do what you asked. He isn't getting what he needs. He threatened the massage therapist with a caning, and he won't show up for physical therapy at all now because his leg hurts too much. Anyone who tries to talk to him is guaranteed a verbal decapitation."

"Why didn't you get Wilson?"

Cameron sighed in frustration. "I did. He told me to get his doctor."

Chase turned away from her and headed for the exam room. "I'm busy. I still have two hours of clinic duty left."

"Can't you just give him some more pills for today? We are working on an important case."

"Can't do that. It's not in his best interest." Chase entered the exam room, but Cameron persistently followed, closing the door behind her.

"You've got to do something."

"No, I don't."

"Either give him some more pills, or I will," she threatened.

Chase whipped around to face her, his eyes piercing with a disbelieving glance. "That's a guaranteed of loss of license, or prosecution. You would never do anything that irresponsible. Besides, he has pills. He just can't take one for another few hours."

"He took them all. He doesn't have any left."

"Then he has a problem. He should have known he would run out."

"We need him. We can't have another-" She stopped herself.

"You mean you can't have him almost maiming another little girl? How is it you don't trust his judgment unless he's high as a kite?"

"You should know that answer better than anyone. Haven't you always said, he needs pills to function?"

"That was before I was the one ordered to do something about it. I did everything I could to make sure he didn't have to go off Vicodin completely. I'm not losing my license either."

"Oh, so you'll only do something if it suits you."

"Don't give me that! I've done nothing the last several days but bend over backwards for his well being. Everyone wants to tell me what to do. You think House would have picked me if he thought I would cave into pressure?"

"That's exactly why he picked you!"

Chase turned away and took in deep breaths to calm his seething temper. He always knew Cameron had little opinion of him, but this was the one time he didn't need to hear it.

"I have patients I need to see, please leave," he told her in a low but stern voice.

"Chase, I'm-"

"Go!"

She took a few cautious steps toward the door and turned back around for one last look, checking for sure that he was okay. The guilt gnawed away at her, but she convinced herself it would be best to give him some time alone. She crept out slowly, shoulders hunched in regret.

A deflated Chase shuffled over to the desk and leaned on it, gripping tightly onto the edge, fighting desperately to gain composure. He reached across and clutched in his hand a jar of cotton balls that sat in front of him. The smooth surface of the glass felt wonderful in his hands, the white fluffy contents giving him something comforting to focus on.

His efforts at soothing proved fruitless though when a burst of anger suddenly surged inside him. He whipped around and pitched the jar in a fury across the room, causing a harsh impact on the opposite wall. A deafening sound erupted when it shattered into several pieces, the metal lid clanging in perfect rhythm on the ground until it settled.

Cameron rushed into the room in a panic, gazing in horror at the mess on the floor in front of her. She glanced over to Chase, who lowered his head, hid his scowl, and quickly walked out the door.

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A knock on his front door at that hour wasn't what startled Chase. It was the abrupt, almost frantic nature of the knock. Whoever it was, the visit was urgent.

"Dr. Wilson?" He didn't expect to see him on the other side. He was surprised the man went through the trouble to figure out where he lived.

"You need to know what's going on." Wilson tilted his head toward his car, which was parked in front of the building. Chase made out the tall figure in the passenger seat.

"What's wrong?"

"For him, perfectly nothing. He's feeling no pain."

Chase gave Wilson a bewildered glance. He figured House would find drugs, but it must be really bad if Wilson was bringing him there. Chase went down the stairs toward the car to see what happened. He saw House through the window, his head swerving back and forth, eyes closed. Whatever he was on, he took enough where it rendered him completely incoherent.

Chase opened the door and clasped his hand around House's chin, prying open an eyelid. He saw a large spot of deep blue with little white surrounding it. "He's loaded."

"The large dose of smack might have something to do with that." Wilson said, who was now standing behind him.

Chase's eyes grew wide as he released House, turned to face Wilson and stared at him in stunned disbelief. "Heroin??"

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**a/n: Not much to say other than thanks so much for reading. Did you like?**


	4. Chapter 4

**a/n: This is all Chase and Wilson. Enjoy!**

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Chase released a deep sigh while his tired eyes stared hopelessly at his stoned mentor and now patient. He debated over whether to have Wilson take him home, but he didn't know how much heroin House ingested or how his body would react with all the other medication in his system. "Help me get him inside," he instructed Wilson, voice tinged with disappointment.

He turned the slumping House around in the seat, pulling his legs out of the car. Wilson wrapped House's right arm around his shoulder, while Chase took the left. Together they hauled him upward, with Chase kicking the car door shut behind him once they were clear. House's feet dragged listlessly along the sidewalk, toes pounding into the concrete as they led him up the stairs.

"Where did you find him?" Chase asked as they approached the doorway.

"A park bench in Trenton. He called me after the pain went away, figuring out he was in a bit of a mess."

"A bit?" Chase took the lead through the front door. "How much did he take?"

"I have no idea, but he's not coming down for a while."

Chase and Wilson gently put House down on the couch, where he slumped on his back without ever rousing. Wilson sank wearily into a nearby chair, while Chase paced in the center of his living room, trying to make sense of this mess.

Wilson watched Chase's pensive face. He never appreciated Chase's ability for shifty thinking, often finding his behavior dubious and more for House's pleasure than the best interest of the patients. He realized at that moment House needed a doctor like that more than ever. "Big mess, huh?"

"That's an understatement. I have to give him credit, he knew what he was doing. He picked a drug that would quickly metabolize through his system so the drug test on Monday would be normal."

"Or at least inconclusive."

Chase nodded in agreement.

Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes. His day was exhausting enough. House always had a way of making a rough day worse. "Have a seat. He's going to be out for a while."

Chase fell into the chair across from Wilson. He let his head fall back against the top of the soft cushion on the chair and closed his eyes as he exhaled. His nerves were officially shot. His head eventually drifted back upward, eyes fixed on the mass in front of him. The sight was too familiar. A slumping form on the couch, rumpled hair and clothes, beads of sweat sliding off of the pale skin, eyelids occasionally cracking open to reveal a sliver of bright blue before drifting closed again. The memories emerging inside him were thick and haunting.

Wilson analyzed Chase's icy stare in his friend's direction. He always suspected one reason House hired Chase was because he wasn't an easy read. If that was the case, House was dead on with that one. He couldn't tell at all what was going through the young man's mind.

"It's like déjà vu all over again." Chase said in a somber tone.

"What's that?"

"Nothing." Chase let his head fall back again and stared at the shadow patterns cast by the table lamp on the ceiling. It was more soothing to observe. He had seen House at extreme lows before, but this had to be the worst.

Wilson wasn't sure who was freaking him out worse, House or Chase. He leaned forward in his seat toward Chase. "Are you okay?"

"I'm doing much better than him," Chase replied.

Wilson took another look at his friend and shook his head. "In some ways, I think he had the right idea." He had to wonder at what point he would stop bailing House out of messes. Part of him refused to let go, and wanted to do whatever it took. He sat back in the chair, feeling too numb and paralyzed to resolve the questions within.

Chase snapped himself out of his funk for a brief moment, realizing despite everything he did have a guest. "Can I get you something? A drink? Beer? Whiskey?"

Chase's offer broke Wilson's pensive frame of mind as well. "The stiffer the drink, the better."

Chase got up and headed to the kitchen to get the supplies.

-------------------------------------------

The punch of the strong liquid at the back of his throat was everything he needed. Wilson welcomed that second to drift away from the troubling sight in front of him, to shake off the disturbing experience of having to drive to a dangerous part of Trenton at this time of night to perform yet another rescue. When the second was over, he glanced across the room at Chase, who was back in the opposite chair, holding vigil over House, without any alcohol for himself.

"You need a drink," Wilson said, taking another gulp from his glass.

"Can't." Chase muttered.

Wilson tilted his head, trying to guess what that response meant. "I've seen you drink plenty of times before."

"I don't drink when…during a crisis."

"Interesting habit."

"It's a rule I made a long time ago."

Wilson took another gulp of his drink, wondering if it was worth trying to crack that mystery. "Chase, you've been bearing an incredible burden. You're not alone in this."

Chase let out a small, appreciate smile. "I know."

Wilson placed his empty glass on the table in front of him, while Chase leaned over and poured out another serving. "Cameron came to my office in tears you know," Wilson said, picking up his replenished glass.

Chase frowned at the mention of her name. "Yeah, she told me she came to you when House was being difficult."

"No, I mean after she saw you. She felt awful and was very worried."

Chase didn't answer, not exactly showing a lot of sympathy.

"Not that I feel the need to defend Cameron, but all this has been tough on all of us." Wilson let out a deep sigh. "House has this way of making our lives miserable."

Chase took his focus off House, giving Wilson direct eye contact. "You could have walked away from him long ago. Why did you stick around where others didn't?"

Wilson shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe I'm just as damaged as he is."

Chase nodded in agreement. "I understand. The way we tolerate people in our lives often defies reason."

Wilson settled back in his chair, Chase's words sparking some curiosity. "Tell me honestly Chase, do you really believe House's dependence is physical, or was that just a show for Cuddy?"

"It's physical."

"Why are you so quick to conclude that?"

"House doesn't take these drugs to get high. He takes them to fight pain. Sure, his body has built up too much of a tolerance throughout the years and he's too set in his ways to seek other options, but his underlying motive is to fix a real physical problem."

Wilson didn't see it that way at all. "He told me he was an addict, when he detoxed over that bet with Cuddy."

"He lied."

"Why would he lie?"

Chase took in a deep breath, wondering if his logic would make sense. "Okay, lying might be the wrong word. He was guessing based on the withdrawal symptoms he suffered. I think in his case, he was confusing dependence with addiction."

Wilson sat up straight in his seat, intrigued now over where this was going. "How so?"

"Look at the definition of addiction. It's when someone is unable to stop a behavior despite being aware of the adverse consequences. If that is the case, then we are all addicts every time we go for the giant cookie in the cafeteria line."

"You think the definition is wrong?"

"I think it's vague, and not entirely accurate."

Wilson paused to analyze the interesting observation. Chase made some good points, but he still wasn't completely convinced. "It could be you just don't want to believe he's an addict. I've known him for years. He's always been reckless and self-destructive."

"That doesn't make him an addict. It makes him human."

"He took heroin Chase."

"Have you never done a stupid thing in your life?"

"Wait, I'm a little confused here." Wilson took another drink, hoping that would help him with this fuzzy logic. "First you want us to treat him like an adult and force him to accept the consequences, and now you are defending and applying reason to an act that's borderline suicidal? What's it going to be? When does he get to take responsibility for his actions?"

"He does, everyday, by showing up for work and doing his job. He functions, he saves lives, he teaches us his brilliant ways. That's a lot better than starting off everyday with Bloody Marys and being passed out on the couch by noon from a gin and tonic lunch."

Chase broke eye contact, dropping his head toward his lap, signaling that he said more than he should. Wilson thought back Rowan Chase's infamous visit. The way he avoided talking about or even mentioning his ex-wife led him to believe there was a family secret he didn't want to bring out. He suspected House knew exactly what the secret was, and was amazed that he never told him. Even with House, some things were sacred. "Your mother?"

Chase's silent pause confirmed that it was. "She did everything she could to destroy her life. She drove her husband away, shut her son out, and forced those around her to watch her slowly waste away. That's an addict. That's an irresponsible human being."

Wilson went to respond then hesitated, before convincing himself to go on. "If it's any consolation, that's my brother too. At least it was. I honestly don't know if he's alive or dead."

Chase looked up, surprised he would reveal his family secret to him. "It seems we both have our little scandals."

"It's easier to shut out those in your life that matter. That way the guilt of destroying yourself isn't as bad." Wilson looked at House, accepting that notion very much applied to him.

"It doesn't make the act any less selfish."

"No, I guess not," Wilson conceded.

Their conversation was interrupted by a little bit of restless movement began on the couch. House's head rolled back and forth on the couch pillow, his arms and legs twitching slightly. A slight moan escaped from the back of his throat.

"It lives," Wilson said acerbically.

Chase got up and put his two fingers to House's neck, checking the pulse. "Still pretty low." Two thin slits of blue fell on him in utter confusion. Chase leaned over and moved his lips near House's ear. "Wake up House!"

"Mmmm," he answered, letting his eyes fall back closed.

"Still loaded," Chase said, going back to his seat.

House's head lolled over to Wilson next, his eyes prying open wider, comprehending that his friend was by his side, but not able to process anything else.

"You're an idiot," Wilson told him. House cracked a small smile, rolled his head back and closed his eyes again.

Chase looked at his watch. "Withdrawal will probably start in an hour or two. Good times for him."

All of a sudden, House's cell phone went off. Chase and Wilson looked at each other, waiting for the other to get it. Finally Chase reached over and grabbed the phone from House's pocket. He was surprised, but yet wasn't, as to who was on the other end. "It's Cameron."

"I've talked to her enough today," Wilson said, unwilling to go there.

"You and me both. Still, if she's calling House, it's got to be good." Chase opened the phone. "Hello?"

"Chase? Wha…what are you doing with House's phone?"

Chase rubbed his weary eyes with his hand. "It's a long story."

"Where's House? I really need to speak to him."

"He's unavailable at the moment. Can I give him a message?"

Chase looked over to see Wilson roll his eyes. Apparently he wasn't at all impressed with Cameron's timing either.

"Chase, where is he?"

Chase could tell from the anxious tone in her voice with that question that this was not an ordinary phone call. "Just tell me what's going on."

"I'm at the hospital. Tritter was here, with two cops. They said someone in custody at the Trenton police station swears he sold House heroin last night. They want to bring him in for questioning."

Chase popped up in alarm, prompting him to rush to the front window and push aside the curtain. No sign of any cops. "Cameron. Send an ambulance to my house right now."

"An ambulance? Why?!?"

"Tell them I have a patient suffering from a severe reaction to prescription medication."

"What medication?"

"Combination of Vigabatrin and Vicodin."

"Oh my God. Chase, is something wrong with House? How bad is he?"

Chase ran his hand through his hair and gripped onto the top of his head. "Look, I can't explain right now. Just please do it."

"Chase, please tell me-"

"We are losing time here Cameron."

He heard the click on the other end. By this time, Wilson was on his feet, panicked as well. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Tritter is looking for him."

Wilson threw his hands up in the air, livid over what Chase was thinking. "So, you're getting an ambulance?! How…how does that make sense? They'll know he took heroin."

"No, they won't, because the paramedics will follow my instructions. If Tritter gets hold of him first, he'll get an order for a drug test and prove he did take heroin. This is the only way we can show he didn't."

"Can't we just hide him for a few days?"

"He's going to pretrial in two weeks. That would create just enough suspicion to force a trial."

Wilson saw the two blue eyes from the couch now staring at him more clearly. "How are you going to get people to believe this is an allergic reaction? More importantly, why? You shouldn't put your career on the line for him."

"He'll be in withdrawal soon. I can easily justify sweating, shaking, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea as an allergic reaction."

"The drug will still be in his system! Tritter will figure this out and still be able to get the evidence he needs."

"Not if we get him to the hospital first. There's one very effective way to fix an allergic reaction from two powerful medications. I have to flush them out of his system."

Wilson's jaw dropped, the crux of the plan finally hitting him. "Rapid detox? It's brilliant, but you shouldn't be doing this. You could get in huge trouble."

"How so? I have a sound diagnosis here."

"You know the truth! This is unethical on so many levels. You shouldn't do this. Let him face the ramifications."

Before Chase could answer, they heard a car door slam outside. Chase went over to the front window, hoping that was the ambulance. "Oh shit."

"What is it?"

"It's Tritter."

**a/n: I've presented some pretty different viewpoints about addiction here. Opinions are of one Robert Chase and not necessarily my own. I really think that they are consistent with the character though. Feel free to agree or dissent. Thanks everyone for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**a/n: Sorry about going a little evil with the cliffhangers the last two chapters. I just couldn't help myself. You might notice the appearance in a scene of a long forgotten character. Yes, we have a Foreman sighting! Enjoy.**

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Chase threw back the curtain and rushed out of the room. A bewildered Wilson froze in his spot, eyes wide and mouth hung open, left to contemplate whether or not Chase came to his senses and decided to make a run for it. His speculation was soon answered when Chase appeared with a small bottle in his hand, a glass of water and a waste can.

Chase opened the bottle, cupped the back of House's head with his hand and propped it up. "House, you need to swallow this." His instruction came with composure for House's sake, but his words were tinged with anxiety.

Wilson quickly figured out what Chase was up to. "Ipecac?"

"Yep, we need to accelerate his 'allergy' symptoms."

"That will take at least fifteen minutes to work."

Chase held up a glass of water to House's lips next. "Not if it goes down with salt water."

Wilson winced. "Ooh, so cruel."

"Yeah, well he's not feeling any pain." Chase watched House struggle with the water, but he swallowed anyway.

Wilson couldn't argue with that. "I'll stall Tritter."

Before Chase could ask how he planned to do that, Wilson was out the front door. He turned back to House, who was already starting to look a little sour. "Think disgusting thoughts," Chase told House.

Wilson casually walked down the steps, even whistling for maximum effect. He feigned shock when greeted by Tritter at the bottom.

"I thought I recognized that car," Tritter said. "Good to have it back?"

"Why yes detective, thanks for asking. I must admit, I'm surprised to see you here. Did Chase do something wrong?"

"I need to ask him some questions. You too, so you're being here is making my job easier."

"Chase doesn't seem to be home," Wilson said, turning around and pointing toward the apartment. "I knocked on his door for several minutes and he didn't answer."

Tritter glanced at Wilson with curiosity and placed his hands in his pants pockets. "Funny, I never pegged you and Dr. Chase to be friends."

"Sure. Robert and I hang out all the time."

Tritter was still suspicious. "I seem to recall you have another friend. You know, the one you don't go anywhere without."

"Who, House?" Wilson let out a little chuckle, intent on throwing in long pauses to drag out this conversation. "Come on, despite what you think, I have a life you know."

Tritter scoffed at the idea. "Speaking of your dear friend Greg, you wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"

Wilson took in a long deep breath of contemplation. "Nope, haven't seen him since yesterday at the hospital."

Tritter took in a step closer. "I've got another theory. You do have a good idea where House might be, like maybe, visiting his newly crowned primary physician because of a bad physical problem. One caused by taking some illegal drugs. I'm willing to bet your visit to 'your dear friend Robert' wasn't a social call."

Wilson huffed in shock over such an accusation. "Well I-" His thought was interrupted by a siren screaming down the street, saving him from faking another denial. He was in awe over the perfect timing. Wilson did his best acting job in showing curiosity over the arriving ambulance, watching with Tritter as the bright red vehicle pulled right in front of them.

The paramedics jumped out, one taking his place in between Wilson and Tritter. Wilson almost broke his routine and pointed him to where he needed to go, when Chase appeared at the top of the steps. "In here," he waved at both paramedics frantically.

Tritter looked at Wilson after the paramedics brushed by, who in response shook his head, held out his arms and shrugged his shoulders, indicating he had no idea what was going on. Tritter realized he had been tricked and raced up the stairs to the apartment entrance.

They didn't get far into Chase's apartment, for the medical equipment was blocking the doorway, but they got a good view from there. House was violently ill, vomiting in the trash can Chase was holding for him, while the paramedics began to work on him.

"Anaphylaxis," Chase told them. "He's having a reaction to Vigabatrin. He needs a diphenhydramine drip." A paramedic rushed over to the supply box and pulled out an IV bag and tube.

Chase glanced over to the gathering by the doorway. "Sorry I can't give a proper hello."

"I tried knocking on the door Robert, but you didn't answer." Wilson replied.

_Did Wilson just call me Robert? Man he's putting on a good show._ "Sorry, James, but I couldn't answer. I had my hands full."

"Dr. Chase," Tritter said, not at all impressed by the cover up these two were doing. "We have good reason to believe your patient was shooting heroin last night."

"Impossible," Chase said. "He was with me all night. He came over because he wasn't feeling well."

A paramedic pushed both Tritter and Wilson aside to fetch the gurney. Chase assisted a vomiting House some more, while the paramedics brought the gurney next to the couch. Tritter noticed the pushed aside coffee table with the bottle of whiskey and only one glass. He frowned, for he couldn't find any good evidence that Wilson was there. "Dr. Chase, you seem pretty sharp for someone who has tipped a few wet ones."

"I had only one drink to calm myself hours ago."

Chase got out of the way, giving room for the paramedics to move House and get him prepared for transport. "Princeton Plainsboro," Chase instructed, following behind while they wheeled House out. He felt a hand on his shoulder stop him when he tried to pass through the doorway.

"Dr. Chase, I have some questions," Tritter said in a terse voice.

"Can't you tell I'm in the middle of a medical emergency?"

"I'll ride with you to the hospital," Tritter insisted.

"Sorry, but that's not in the best welfare of my patient. We can talk at the hospital later." Chase pushed his way through the doorway and dashed down the stairs.

"I'll follow along in my car," Wilson shouted to Chase, watching the paramedics load House into the ambulance.

Chase glanced up at Wilson, marveling over his bang up job of looking shocked, dismayed and concerned. _Man he should be an actor. He missed his calling in life. _"See you at the hospital." He climbed in the back of the ambulance and they sped off.

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Thanks to Cameron's efforts, the ER was well prepared for House's arrival. She told the staff that since they were working on a fellow doctor that would prefer his privacy, she and Chase could handle the situation and they would call for assistance if needed. House was rushed to a private area as soon as he arrived, Cameron yanking the curtains shut when Chase was inside the bay.

"Thanks," Chase told Cameron, who hoped she would think ahead.

"What happened?"

"I'll explain later. We need a private room. I'm going to induce a coma for the next eight hours."

"You're going to do rapid detox? Did he do what Tritter said he did?"

Chase hesitated, but then figured she would learn the truth anyway. "Yes."

"Rapid detox is too risky. You know that it increases his risk of overdose when he goes back to popping pills like tic-tacs."

"I have no choice." Chase replied in a hushed voice. "Tritter is in the lobby. If we don't flush the drugs out of his system, Tritter has his evidence."

Cameron sadly nodded, realizing he was right. "I'll get a room." She pushed aside the curtain in a rush, letting it fall behind her.

Chase clasped his hands at the back of his head and took in a deep breath. He usually thrived on excitement, but this was a bit too much.

"Chase?" A weary and slurred voice called from the bed.

"Good to see you back with us House."

"Feel sick."

"Yes, you should."

House rolled his head back and forth a few times on the pillow, his senses slowly processing what was happening. "Hospital."

Chase moved next to House, and leaned closer so that his words wouldn't be easily heard. "We don't have much time. We're moving you to a private room soon. I'm going to induce a coma and put you through rapid detox."

"Too risky."

"Tritter is in the lobby right now. It seems some drug dealer claims he sold you smack last night. I told them you showed up to my place sick and were having a reaction to the Vigabatrin and Vicodin. If I don't flush your system, then my diagnosis doesn't hold up and they get their drug test."

House weakly nodded. Even in his foggy state, the plan made sense. "Do it."

They both heard Cameron's voice talking to someone on the other side of the curtain. House feebly grabbed Chase's arm. "No Cameron."

Chase smiled, completely agreeing with the request. "Consider it done."

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Chase was too busy adjusting the meds that were keeping House under to notice anyone walk in. Eventually, he saw someone out of the corner of his eye take a seat in the corner and pull out a magazine.

"Come to see the show?" Chase asked.

"Oh yeah, this room is just brimming with excitement," Foreman said sarcastically, flipping through a bunch of ads, stopping at a particularly nice one of a pretty woman on a lush tropical beach.

"I thought you already had a patient."

"Considering you, House and Cameron all but abandoned me, I was able to refer her to someone else once I came up with a brilliant diagnosis."

Chase smiled and shook his head, already missing the good times of competitive differential games.

"What's so amusing?" Foreman asked, confused by the reaction.

"Law of averages. I guess you were due one."

"Ha, ha." Foreman went back to his reading.

Chase took a few steps toward him, done with House for now. "I hope I'm not taking you from your timely literature," noticing the Time magazine Foreman was reading. "Anything new happen in the world last week?"

Foreman glanced up at Chase, ignoring his joke. "You look like hell."

"Gee thanks. Lots of stress and a sleepless night will do that."

Foreman put his magazine down. "I heard the story as told to Cameron as told from Wilson. It sounds awfully flimsy to me. You want to tell me what really happened?"

"Someday, it'll make a great story over some beers. For right now, it's in your best interest if you don't know."

Foreman wholeheartedly agreed with that. "Go get some sleep. I can watch him."

"Thanks, but I can handle this."

"You and House both are addicted to misery, you know that? He isn't going anywhere and needs you fresh when he wakes up."

Chase ran his hands down his cheeks, realizing it wasn't a bad idea. "Maybe you're right."

"I'm sure I'll have Cameron to keep me company."

"Nope, she's been ordered out, by request of the patient."

Foreman laughed. "I always thought House was a genius."

Chase smiled, took one last look at his slumbering mentor and headed for the door. Just before he stepped through the door frame, he turned around. "Foreman-"

"You're welcome."

Foreman heard the glass close and got up to get a closer look at House. He stared at the mass in front of him with both disdain and pity. "I'm not like you. I would never do such a stupid thing to myself." He turned back around and went back to his reading.

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Wilson chose to be the one to track Cuddy down first before he was officially summoned. Avoiding the inevitable wasn't going to do him any favors.

"He didn't call you?" She asked, closing her office door behind Wilson.

"There's a little bit of stress in the relationship if you remember," Wilson candidly reminded her.

"He went to see Chase instead? Why do I have a hard time believing that? Why do I think this isn't a bad drug allergy?"

"You saw his chart. Was anything in there leading you to believe it wasn't?"

"No," she replied, her voice and spirit deflated.

"Then I suggest you leave it at that. You and I both know the less we know about what House does, the better."

Cuddy dropped onto her sofa, wondering if this entire saga was ever going to end. "I can't fix this."

Wilson took his place next to her. "No, you can't. Neither can I."

Cuddy took in a deep sigh, clutching onto one hand with the other. "After he's done with the detox, I'm going to tell Chase he's off the hook. He doesn't need this nightmare."

"If you want my opinion, I think Chase is the best one to help him. You should ask House. If House doesn't want him to be his doctor anymore, fine, but it should be his call. I think that Chase has surprised him and won't be so quick to dismiss him."

"I hope so. I think what Chase is doing is incredible."

Wilson got up. "Try not to worry for now. He's going to be out for a while."

There was a knock on the door. Both glanced over to see Tritter on the other end. "Don't worry, huh?" Cuddy said.

"It's never a dull moment with House, is it?" Wilson looked at Cuddy with a sign of solidarity, and went to let Tritter in.

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House had enough experience to know when his mind was coming out of a chemically enhanced haze. The feeling was often one of the worst, but it was also one of the most reassuring. He wasn't dead. "These drug induced comas are getting old."

"I know I'm getting tired of your constant drama," Chase quipped, never lifting his head from his book.

House cracked a small smile. Perfect comeback. "So what's the verdict doctor? Am I going to live?"

"You're dying. Just not fast enough."

"Aren't we all?"

House took a good look at the dark circles sweeping in perfect curves under Chase's eyes. Even when tired, his features were stunning. House was quickly disturbed. The drugs were definitely causing him to notice things he otherwise would choose to ignore. "How many nurses have been in here to make sure you're okay?"

Chase smiled. "About twenty."

House gave him a sharper stare. "You're lying, aren't you?"

"Yep. More like ten."

With each second House's senses became sharper. He soon realized he was tired of the banter. "How about telling me what the plan is now?"

"Why? You never wanted to hear it before."

House swallowed, feeling the dry discomfort of his irritated throat. "I don't need to apologize for my actions."

"I don't expect you to."

"Then what are you expecting?"

Chase slammed his book shut and glared at House with contempt. "I expect you to start acting like a grownup. Once again, you were bailed out of a jam by someone that was actually concerned for your well being. You have to know that at some point your support network will fail you and you'll be left to deal with your own mess."

House wasn't impressed. "I thought lecturing someone like they were a two year old was beneath you."

Chase stood up abruptly. "Maybe it's because I'm too tired and punchy to control myself, or maybe it's because Tritter is camped outside waiting for first opportunity to ambush me all because you're an irresponsible jerk. If anyone had a lecture coming, it was you."

Chase hoped for some type of reaction, but only got House's blank stare with no answer. He had enough. He went over to the sliding door and opened it.

"Oh, by the way, you're welcome." Chase left the room, harshly closing the door behind him.

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**a/n: Next chapter is very likely the last one, although it could go to a chapter 7. I am sometimes guilty of writing too much. Thanks for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**a/n: I'm so sorry that I fell a few days behind on the update. This week got away from me. To make it up to everyone, this is a nice long chapter. It's my first attempt at showing legal drama, so you'll have to let me know how it goes. Thanks everyone for reading so far and sending all your wonderful comments. **

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Cuddy's eager pace slowed the closer she got to House's room. She had no idea why, considering she knew what she was going to say, but for one brief moment doubt entered her mind. Was it right to give House the option again of choosing a doctor, especially after yet another stupid stunt? She took in a deep breath to ward off her hesitation and slid open the door.

House sat pensively on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, his legs dangling listlessly toward the floor. In his hand he held a set of papers, discharge papers by the look of it, but instead of leaving he had chosen to enjoy some quiet time.

His eyes wandered toward Cuddy once she entered the room, his empty stare indicating he wasn't surprised to see her. "I can't believe it's taken you this long to visit and give me the grand Lisa Cuddy diatribe."

Cuddy moved closer toward him in a cautious shuffle, heels clomping in an easy rhythm on the floor. House's expression turned puzzled, for he wasn't expecting a subdued boss. "What type of pop psychology are you going to try this time?"

Cuddy was about to answer, and but stopped when she noticed the patch on his arm. "Is that a fentanyl patch?"

"Yep."

"You agreed to that?"

"It's great," he said unconvincing. "A timed release of a whole 75mcg an hour. I only have to change it every three days. What a convenience."

"You've agreed to give up Vicodin?"

"Me?" House chuckled. "Heavens no. I only get 100 mcg a day as a breakthrough though, so I'm saving it for when I have some special me time."

"What about the drug cravings?"

"I'm back in the Vigabatrin study, on a cautious dose of course. Don't want to have another allergic reaction." His tone was sarcastic, hinting that he knew she had found out by now what really happened.

Cuddy folded her arms, looking at him squarely with skepticism. "Why are you behaving?"

"Because I'm a good patient." House stood up, deciding that quiet time was over.

Cuddy continued to hold her glare, then smiled. "Wait a second, I see what's going on. Chase guilted you into something."

"No he didn't. I'm doing what's best for me."

Cuddy's smile grew wider, but she said nothing, taking in how precious the moment really was.

"So that's all you came in for?" House asked, no longer in the mood to amuse her. No speeches?"

Cuddy took steps toward the door. "Go home House, get some rest. I expect you back at work tomorrow."

She left, surprised that House hadn't followed in an attempt to browbeat her into a typical confrontation. There was no doubt in her mind now. Whatever Chase did, it worked. He was going to stay House's doctor.

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House and Wilson sat side by side on the bench, eyes staring off into space, ignoring the busy swirl activity around them. To them, this was amounting to just another typical morning. What they were doing wasn't particularly exciting, but it beat what was about to come.

Their attention quickly fixed on the tall brunette breezing by. She was dressed in a sharp black suit, skirt just above the knee, and black spiked heels that accented her smooth and perfectly sculpted legs. Both cocked their heads to one side and were almost drooling when she swaggered past them.

"Why can't my lawyer look like that?" House said.

Within seconds he saw in the corner of his eye the pant leg of a fine tailored suit. A man's suit. _Speak of the devil._ "Why Howard, I was just talking about you."

"I'm sure you were. Glad to see you're actually here on time."

He pointed to Wilson. "That's his fault."

Their greetings ended when Chase and Foreman were spotted coming down the hall. "Great, here comes the pep squad." House joked.

"Actually," Howard said, "Dr. Chase has been called to testify." He pointed to Foreman. "He's your cheerleader."

House lowered his head. "I'm doomed."

Chase and Foreman worked their way over, both offering a quick and simple nod to acknowledge some sort of hello. Neither looked very thrilled to be there.

"Dr. Chase," Howard said, "I'm glad you're here early. We need to take a few minutes to go over your testimony again. The ADA is going to do his best to prove that despite your efforts, House is an addict and is dangerous to patients."

"Okay." Chase followed the lawyer down the hall. That left Foreman standing with House and Wilson, awkward silence running between them.

"So, what time does the trial start?" Foreman asked.

Wilson looked at his watch. "In half an hour."

Foreman nodded. "At what point do I start the wave?"

---------------------------------

Chase was surprised how comfortable he felt on the stand, especially since he had been providing testimony for the defense non-stop for thirty minutes. He so far had talked at length about his treatment plans for House and gave in depth details on his recent hospitalization. He was satisfied that Howard asked all the right questions regarding House's medical history, and thought the information he'd given was helping House's case. Overall, everything was going pretty well.

As Howard finished up, Chase took a good look over to the prosecution's bench, where the disinterested ADA sat, shuffling through notes in anticipation of his turn. Tritter was right behind him, slightly smirking, as if he knew what was coming. Chase began mentally preparing himself. After all, this was just another tough situation he had to face. He was going to remain positive.

The ADA's expression quickly changed to one of confidence now that it was his turn. He casually moved toward Chase, buttoning his grey suit jacket in the process, and wasted no time in getting started. "Dr. Chase, you said you have Dr. House's primary care physician for a month?"

"Yes."

"You worked for him for three years before that, correct?"

"Three and a half actually."

The ADA nodded over the correction, and glanced again at his sheet of notes. Chase could tell already how much this guy loved dramatic pauses. He must watch a lot of legal dramas. "Given your previous working relationship, why would you agree to become his doctor? Wouldn't taking on that role have affected your objectivity?"

Chase wasn't sure if he should mention that he wasn't given much of a choice. He remembered his prep with Howard, he must avoid revealing too much information. Only directly address what was asked. "I thought I could help him. As doctors, we are trained to be objective with all patients."

"There is a rule that doctors shouldn't treat family members, isn't there?"

"Yes, but he's not family."

"Wouldn't a long time mentor fall into the same category?"

"House is the one who taught me how to never assume and judge fairly. He wouldn't have let me be his doctor if he didn't think I was capable of that."

"I see." The ADA paced around, reading more of his notes. "From our interviews with other hospital staff members, we found Dr. House has a reputation for being coercive. According to some of those statements, while you worked for him, you tended to blindly follow his lead and were perceived to be a suck up. Are you saying that since he's no longer your supervisor, you can easily do what's best for him, even when he tries to intimidate?"

Chase held up his guard, knowing tough questions were part of this. He couldn't respond harshly to personal attacks. "When I worked for Dr. House, I often believed he was right in his theories, so I went along with his instructions. In this case, he hasn't been given any input except for choosing what recommended courses of treatment to follow. The circumstances are not the same."

"So, he hasn't coerced you in any way to follow an inappropriate course of treatment?"

"No."

He nodded, walked behind the desk, and exchanged his first set of notes for another one. "I'll have to admit, your diagnosis and recommendations for treatment are radically different from how Drs. Cuddy and Wilson chose to treat him. Your approach is certainly stretching the boundaries of creativity."

"Objection!" Howard shouted.

"Strike the last sentence from the record." The judge ordered.

The ADA paused to think about how to rephrase. "You have Dr. House on a program to help curb drug cravings, yet he continues to take opiates for medication."

"Fentanyl and Vicodin are still the best prescriptions for pain. The problem we needed to fix was to curb his excessive need."

"Are you saying Dr. House has developed an addiction?"

"He has a cognitive defect that predisposed his brain to creating an all consuming pattern of uncontrollable craving. That condition was not properly identified or treated earlier and now it's manifested."

"That doesn't answer the question."

Chase took a long pause, taking time to pull together his thoughts and answer the question carefully. "What definition of addiction do you want me to base my opinion?"

The opposing counsel read from a prepared sheet of paper. "A recurring compulsion by an individual to engage in some specific activity, despite harmful consequences to the individual's health, mental state, or social life."

"It's not a simple answer."

"All I need is a yes or no."

"No," Chase replied sternly.

"No? So you're saying that Dr. House doesn't use drugs to support a reckless lifestyle, is healthy, has a sound mental state, and a great social life, despite the fact that he needs these pills to function?"

"I don't have a great social life. That doesn't make me an addict."

The ADA looked at the judge in protest. "Please Dr. Chase," the judge said, "address the question."

Chase nodded in compliance and went on. "He lives in pain and takes these pills to manage that pain, not for a high. There's bound to be stress though that affects his lifestyle."

"So he deals with that stress by taking too many prescription pills."

"He doesn't take more than the prescribed dosage. Right now though, that dosage is too high and he's working with me to go on a full scale pain management regiment so we can regulate that dose."

The ADA looked at his feet and resumed his pacing. "Does Dr. House constantly display drug seeking behavior?"

Chase wasn't sure how to answer that. He had to be careful. "What do you mean by drug seeking? I have seen him on many occasions act irritable when he is past due for his Vicodin dosage, but I've never witnessed him actively seek out more drugs."

"No? Not at all?"

Chase took in a contemplative breath, giving a long dramatic pause of his own. Two could play at this game. He shook his head. "No, I really can't think of a time."

"What about since you've become his primary doctor? Did any of your test results reveal an excessive amount of drugs in his system?"

Chase rehearsed this answer with the lawyer. He was told to be honest, since the court subpoenaed House's medical records. "Yes, the first set of tests I performed revealed an abnormal amount of Vicodin in his system."

"How abnormal?"

"Over the years he has built up a tolerance to the drug, so he had more in his system than an average user."

"How much?"

"60mg."

"What's the normal dosage?"

"15 to 20mg."

"What does a high dose like that do to a person?"

"A person who has never taken the drug before, it makes them very ill, or possibly kills them. For House, the effects were minimal."

"Still, that is beyond the normal prescribed limit. Didn't you say that he doesn't take more than what is prescribed?"

"That amount can be explained by other factors. It could build up in his system after long term use. He's been on a high dose for quite a while."

The ADA accepted that answer and went on to his next line of questioning. "Why is Dr. House on Vigabatrin?"

"It's a drug for epilepsy that has proven to be effective in curbing drug cravings for cocaine dependence. There is a new study at the hospital expanding it to people dependent on opiates."

"Why not use more traditional and proven drugs like Methadone?"

"Because of his pain issues, he can't go off of opiates completely. Methadone blocks opiates."

"Yes, but this study is experimental, so there's a huge chance that it won't work."

"Current methods like using methadone only work twenty percent of the time. More studies are proving drug cravings to be a physical condition, while before it was perceived to be psychological. These experimental trials have been promising."

"What's the current success rate of the experimental studies, at least for cocaine dependence?"

"Each study has different results."

"Average."

"Forty percent."

Chase knew by the reaction that answer gave the ADA some room for grandstanding. "Forty percent? If the failure rate is so high, and the effects of the treatment unknown, especially given his recent hospitalization for a drug reaction to the medicines that are supposed to help him, should Dr. House even be practicing medicine while going through this program? Aren't the risks too great here when we're dealing with people's lives?"

"Objection, he's leading," Howard said.

"Sustained." The judge countered.

"I'll rephrase. In your professional opinion, given his current physical condition, should Dr. House continue to treat patients?"

"Yes."

"I'm confused. You just said he has a condition in which there is no sound and proven treatment."

"That doesn't affect his ability to treat patients. All it does is affect his reactions to pain, hopefully making them better."

Chase saw the ADA's grin. Damn, he just opened a door. "It doesn't huh? Strange because I have details in my possession about a recent case, one you worked on personally with Dr. House. A young girl by the name of Alice Hartman."

Chase hung his head low. He should have guessed that would come up.

"Dr. House was having massive pain issues during this case, wasn't he? As a matter of fact, his Vicodin was scaled back. How would you depict his mental judgment during this case?"

"Unfocused."

"Just unfocused? He came up with a radical diagnosis without taking time to run the proper tests to confirm, didn't he?"

"Yes, but he thought it was flesh eating bacteria. By the time that condition is usually confirmed, the patient is dead."

"He scheduled surgery to amputate the girl's left arm and leg, without knowing with reasonable certainty that it was flesh eating bacteria, didn't he?"

Chase told himself to still remain firm. "Yes."

"Yes, he did. Lucky for Alice though, someone else came to the rescue and it all worked out. How did that happen?"

"I figured out the correct diagnosis before the surgery and alerted Dr. House."

"From the accounts I have here, you saved this girl only a minute or two before the surgeons were to cut off her arm."

"Yes."

"What happened when you told Dr. House he got the diagnosis wrong?"

Chase hesitated and said nothing. How was he going to give this answer without wavering? It still hurt to think about it. He looked over at House, who blankly stared and him, waiting impatiently for the answer.

"Dr. Chase, please answer the question." The ADA knew he had him.

"He punched me."

"Dr. House punched you? For being correct? That doesn't sound like a doctor acting rationally and in the best interest of his patients."

"He was going through too rapid a Vicodin withdrawal at the time. That's why I refuse to force him off the Vicodin completely and work at a much slower pace. He has a bad history with withdrawal."

"Judging from this incident though, he has more issues than being cranky and scatterbrained during withdrawal. He can actually get violent and dangerous. Is that someone who really should be treating patients? I would think if anything, that shows a man with a serious drug problem."

Chase sat silent, having no good answer.

"That's okay, you don't have to answer that." The ADA took his time going back to his desk, letting everyone in the room absorb those comments.

Chase thought he was done, until the ADA surprised him by speaking more.

"Dr. Chase, your mother was an alcoholic, right?"

Chase's heart sank. Why in the world was he going there? "I'm not sure what that has to do with anything."

"Your honor-" Howard interrupted.

"I need to explore Dr. Chase's previous experiences with addicts, since he's here testifying on behalf of an alleged one," the ADA explained.

"Overruled. Dr. Chase, answer the question," the judge ordered.

"Yes, my mother was an alcoholic."

"She was a pretty bad one, wasn't she? She ended up drinking herself to death."

This was another place Chase didn't want to go. He was really uncomfortable now. Still, he had to go on. "Yes."

"Under your expert opinion, was her addiction caused by a cognitive defect?"

"I don't know. I don't have the test results like I do with Dr. House."

"You lived with her for years, how about a good guess based on her behaviors?"

Chase shrugged, not having a great answer. "I suppose it's possible."

"Was she an addict?"

"Your honor, where is this leading?" Howard shouted, not liking this line of questioning at all.

"Please rephrase the question to be more specific." The judge ordered.

The ADA nodded and went back for another attempt. "Did she knowingly increase alcohol consumption for pleasure, and was unable to function in normal society because of it."

"Yes."

"You were a teenager when this happened.

"Yes."

"That must have been hard, having to care for her, and essentially helping her hide from the outside world, all while being unable to share the burden of the family secret."

Chase stayed silent, knowing that wasn't a question to answer and was a trick to get him to say something. He wouldn't have been able to answer that anyway.

"So, here you are, years later, a doctor, and you have a chance to help someone close to you again with a similar affliction. Still, there has to be some habits from being a child of an alcoholic that are hard to break, like doing what you can to twist the true nature Dr. House's addiction and mask the problem."

Chase waited for Howard's objection, but didn't get one. He tried to answer, but ended up giving an incredulous pause instead, not able to easily find words. "I'm…not hiding anything."

"You won't force him off the Vicodin, even though it's clearly controlling him. You are using a high risk experimental treatment to address the problem instead of proven treatments."

"He's in pain, and proven treatments have never worked with him before."

The ADA jumped into a full offensive now. "You don't want to cut him off because you saw how bad the results were before! You saw what a monster he can become when he hit you and it scared you, likely the same way your mother did."

"She never hit me, and she has nothing to do with House." Chase's voice cracked a little.

"She couldn't control her behaviors either, could she? So which hang up are you caving into by treating Dr. House, the one where you can't bear to see him suffer like your mother did, or the one where you can't say no to authority figures, especially ones that have browbeat you for years?"

"Your honor!" Howard was clearly outraged, as was Chase.

"I withdraw." The ADA went back to his desk and sat down, very satisfied with how that went.

Chase sat in the chair seething, his fists clenched with bare white knuckles, hidden behind the stand. Only the judge could see how shaken he was. The ADA's latest dramatic pause gave Chase a little time to compose himself.

"One more question Dr. Chase. Given your personal and professional experiences, from everything you've seen from Dr. House, can you say with absolute certainty that he is not capable of the same self-destruction as your mother?"

"Your honor, that would be pure speculation," Howard argued.

"Overruled. It's a fair question." The judge ordered.

Chase kept his eyes downward, choosing wisely not to lay eyes on that despicable ADA. He was afraid he might lose his temper. "No," he answered in a low voice.

"Thank you Dr. Chase. Nothing further your honor."

"Opposing counsel, do you have any follow up questions?" The judge asked.

Howard stood up, knowing he had to make this brief. He knew when a witness was on the verge of falling apart. "Dr. Chase, in your opinion, can Dr. House perform his job to the best of his abilities under medical supervision?"

"Yes."

"That's all I have your honor."

"You may step down Dr. Chase." The judge said.

Chase didn't need to be told twice. He got down from the stand and in a quick stride moved toward the center aisle. He could feel all the eyes on him, piercing right through him in pity, but he looked straight ahead, choosing not to see any of them. His eyes wandered over to the defense table briefly to see House looking away and refusing to acknowledge him.

Chase turned his eyes toward the courtroom doors in the back and moved through the crowd quickly. When he got to the back of the room, he pushed the doors open with some force and without hesitation or looking back, left the courtroom.

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**a/n: It looks like one more chapter to go. I'll know for sure once I'm done writing it. Thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**a/n: Okay, I lied. This part was supposed to be the first half of the final chapter, but I realized it just needed to be a chapter of its own. So, this fic will be eight chapters. I'm sure not many of you are complaining about that!**

**This chapter is a big risk for me, but I needed to have the ultimate Chase/House conversation and this was the result. All comments about whether or not this was written in character will be most welcome. The objective here was to stretch the dynamic slightly further without going overboard. Happy reading !**

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The sharp knock on his door jerked Chase out of his somber rumination. He was sure that if he ignored it long enough, the visitor would go away. After all, he never got visitors, so who could possibly have an urgent need to see him right now? He guessed it was the neighbor again delivering mail that ended up in her box by mistake. She could slip it under the door this time.

"Chase! Open this door or I'm calling the police and reporting you've got child porn!"

"House?" Chase got up and moved closer to the door, but didn't open it. "Go away."

"Open the door."

Chase thought about calling House's bluff, but he did so while unhooking the chain and turning the deadbolt. _When am I ever going to be able to tell this man no? _Chase gave a steely gaze when the door flew open to one the person that he didn't want to see at this time.

"Hi," House said in a dull tone, as if he was required to give the customary greeting. He didn't even bother to wait for the invitation and started walking in, with Chase instinctively clearing some space.

Chase closed the door and sat back down where he was previously on the couch. House took a few seconds to look around the room, noticing the simple décor.

"You don't remember being here before," Chase said, watching House's eyes moving back and forth.

"Nope, nothing looks familiar."

Chase slumped into the couch, shoulders hung low in defeat. "Look House, I'm tired, as I'm sure you are too. Can't this wait?"

"Nope." House took a seat in the chair next to the couch.

Chase let out a deep sigh, not at all in the mood for any conversation, let alone whatever House was planning. From his experience, he wasn't exactly there to share hugs and a pint of Haagen-Daas. "Couldn't you have sent Cameron instead? At least she would smother me with sympathy."

"I'm sure that's not all she'd smother you with."

Chase got up. "Jokes aren't going to work right now," he said with tired voice while he left the room. House didn't even allow a fleeting thought over where Chase was going. Eventually he would be back. He can't avoid his own living room forever.

Chase was back in about two minutes, two long neck beer bottles in his hand. He placed one on the coffee table in front of House, and sank down onto the couch holding his, carefully examining it, but not taking a drink.

House carefully watched Chase strum his fingers all over the bottle while he took a healthy gulp of his own beer. "You do know that beers are for drinking, right? I know I've always called you stupid, but I never thought you were an idiot."

Chase placed the beer bottle on the table next to him, and went back to his silent brooding.

House nervously looked around, cursing to himself over why he was really there. Visits like this were never easy for him, but it wasn't like he was concerned over whether Chase really wanted him there. It was because just enough remorse poked inside him to where he and Chase finally needed to talk. "I wouldn't worry about what happened on the stand. Your testimony really did some good. Howard seems optimistic that the DA doesn't have enough to go to trial."

Chase's eyes fell downward, and then back up, fixed on the golden hue coming from his front window. He was keeping his mind intentionally blank, knowing from experience that was the only way he could gain control. Still, he did let himself wonder, did the yellow faintly filtering through his window come from the fading sunlight or the street lamp? He had lost all awareness of time.

House was mesmerized by Chase's far out gaze. He was familiar with his classic withdrawal tactics, but this one seemed particularly vacant. He'd only seen Chase like this once before, when that baby died. _What was that kid's name_? There was only one way of snapping him out of it. It wouldn't be well received, no matter what he tried, but Chase should be used to it by now. "Are you doing all this for me because you couldn't save your mother?"

Chase slumped further into the couch, so much so he felt as if he had merged with it. "House, I don't want to discuss this."

"I'm not leaving until you answer the question."

"You won't stay long. I don't have that much beer."

House settled backward, trying to show he was willing to wait it out. He took another long gulp on his beer. Within a minute he was surprised to find he finished it. He put the empty bottle down, and stretched out his hand in Chase's direction. Chase sighed, grabbed the beer next to him and handed it to House.

House gripped onto the drink, smirking over how Chase's blind loyalty was deeply ingrained even when he was emotionally vacant. That was so pathetic. He had to accept though, whether he found it endearing or not, that such blind loyalty was exactly what kept him safe from his own destruction. First Cuddy and Wilson, now Chase. Their actions defied all logic. Then again, so did his.

"I never wanted for any of this to happen."

Chase's head turned toward House bearing an incredulous expression. "What exactly did you think would happen? That's the problem, you never _intend _to do anything. You just do what you want, and those around you are forced to react. I can't be a part of this anymore."

"I didn't ask you to cover for me."

"No you didn't, because you don't ever have to ask. You knew exactly what I would do. I'm sure you and Wilson even had a nice side bet going on it. 'Chase will cover my ass, and lie to the cops to do it. Heck he'll even get skewered on the stand and have his deeply private family scandals aired for all to know just so I can continue to be a stubborn ass. He just loves me too much.'"

A glint emerged from House's blue eyes, for that was the spark he was looking for. Now they can get started. "That's when Wilson says, 'No, Chase will do all that because he wants to save his job.'"

Chase didn't crack a smile. "I'd say that Chase guy is certifiable."

House gave a tiny smile and glanced at the window that was grabbing Chase's attention. The way the light scattered through the chintzy curtains was visually catching. He helped himself to more beer, and went back to the prodding.

"You never answered my initial question."

"I have no answer."

"How about a yes or no?"

"You're starting to sound like that vicious DA. Yes or no means you don't get a truthful answer."

"You just don't want to answer the question."

Chase threw his hands up in the air in outrage. "No, I don't! What does it matter what my motives are? I'm helping you. At least I thought I was. Now I realize the truth. I've been freaking delusional."

House's face fell toward his feet with a small amount of guilt. He bounced the cane with his right hand in attempt to hide his discomfort. "You're helping. As a matter of fact, you've exceeded my expectations."

House felt his stomach turn as Chase's confused glare pierced right through him. Too late for going back, he was going to have to explain that comment now.

"Oh, don't get so weepy. You and I both know that I'll never have a perfect situation, and I won't always do what's good for me. The important thing here is that you tried to do something that Cuddy and Wilson never attempted. You saw something about me that they never did, or never wanted to."

"How else did you think I would act?" Chase asked with just the right amount of hurt hanging in his words. "What were your expectations? Did you just pick me as your doctor because you thought I would do whatever you wanted? Didn't any part of you think I would actually give sound medical advice?"

"I don't answer your question unless you answer mine first," House replied firmly.

Chase went back to his window gazing, then leaned forward with his head falling into his hands. His head emerged up after a long pause and a deep breath. "This never had anything to do with my mother."

That wasn't enough for House. "Why was that question so hard to answer?"

"Because it's none of your business."

House's glance turned curious. "Why do you think I picked you?"

Chase didn't move, the only visible sign of motion being the clenching of his jaw. "I withdraw my question. You know exactly why you chose me for this task and how I'd respond with my duties. That's why I never needed an answer from you before. I certainly don't care what it is."

House took in a deep sigh, raising his hand to his forehead. He should have known a conversation like this with Chase would result in talking in circles. Neither of them were very good at giving direct answers. "Why put yourself through all this? You've always been a brilliant strategist with self-preservation. Why risk it all, your career, your reputation, your sacred privacy, for someone that will give you nothing but grief in return?"

"Words are so much more exciting to you unspoken. That way you can see all, know all, and be convinced you're always right. Anything I say won't change how you'll interpret my pathetic existence."

House shook his head, deciding to try a different approach. Chase had to be capable of a straight answer. "Chase," he said with a much calmer tone, "the second I get first glance of Cameron or Foreman, I know exactly what they want, what they're up to and how they think they're going to trick me. Despite what you might think, you have always been the puzzle that I could never solve. There are so many deep layers in there that each time I get through one, there's another covering up your true motives and who you really are. I have this notion that you've built up so many walls, even you don't know what's behind them. So, when I ask you, why are you going out of your way to help me, why do you think I chose you, it's because I honestly don't know. Maybe the question should be, do you really know?"

Chase got up, the back of his mind processing all that had been said while the rest of him went to the window and pulled back the curtains. The sunlight was near gone, so the mystery of the lights did come from the streetlamps.

"She died in the hospital. She was withered, frail, a fragment of whatever beauty she once was. I was there by her side, the dutiful son, but in reality it sickened me to look at her. I was disgusted by her weakness, which tore me apart because I shouldn't have felt that way. I was supposed to love her unconditionally. I have never once felt that way about your situation. The two don't even compare. I did what I did because of what you taught me. Do everything you can for the patient, no matter what the cost. That's why I helped you, and that's why you chose me."

House cracked a smile while reaching for his beer. No, that was definitely not the answer he would have guessed, and he got it right. He would have to count that as another layer exposed. "Okay." He finished the beer and got up to leave.

"Hold on," Chase said, pushing back the curtain and moving closer to House. "We aren't done yet."

House nodded in acceptance and sat back down.

"You're not my patient anymore," Chase declared.

"That's not your choice."

"I'm making it my choice."

"I never pegged you to back away from a tough fight."

"This isn't supposed to be my job. I came to the hospital to learn from you, not care for you. There's still plenty of work to be done, and I'm missing out."

House was pretty impressed with that argument. "You want to come back and work for me, even after all this?"

"Yeah."

House took a long hard look at Chase, making for damn sure he meant what he was saying and not just trying to be brave. He was serious. "We'll have to talk to Cuddy then. We can't do that until after tomorrow morning."

"Why not?"

"Verdict is at 9 am sharp. There might not be a Dr. House to work for anymore."

Chase shrugged. "We'll have to wait and see."

House nodded in agreement and took a few steps toward the door.

"I still have more beer you know," Chase said to House's back.

"You actually going to drink with me this time?" House asked, turning around to face him.

Chase smiled. "It's against my rule, but with you there are always exceptions."

House sat back down in the chair. "Well hurry up. Those beers don't serve themselves."

Chase disappeared into the other room, while House rubbed his hand against his sore leg. After all the recent turmoil, the new drugs, the changes, he had to admit, the pain was actually better. He'd have to keep that fact to himself though. He couldn't let that go to Chase's head.

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**a/n: Thanks again for reading! Chapter 8 is the final chapter. That's guarantee.**


	8. Chapter 8

**a/n: Here it is! The final chapter. I want to give a huge thank you to all the overwhelming support I got throughout this fic. I had no idea a gen fic like this would generate such an interest. I'm very grateful. **

This chapter is a much more light-hearted, and hopefully satisfying conclusion. I'm really nervous to see what everyone thinks. Happy reading! Also, please take the epilogue with the tongue in cheek it was intended to be!  


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The judge came out from her chambers after the announcement, not bothering to look at either side of the bench. The look of malcontent on her face delivered the message that she wasn't too pleased with both ends.

"This can't be good," House whispered to Howard.

"She's normally like this," Howard replied, still uncertain which way this was going.

"Please be seated." The judge opened her file, and didn't waste much time delivering her conclusions. She wanted this group out of her court, now.

"In all my years as a judge, I can easily tell when a case raises valid concerns about a person's actions, and when we are dealing with a witch hunt. This case has vendetta written all over it. The amount of resources and time the Princeton Police Department has put into this investigation is ridiculous. With the amount of effort thrown into this, and I can only assume how much taxpayer's money, one would think that Detective Tritter was trying to bust up an International drug cartel. Instead, all we've got here is a doctor who has gone a little overboard in handling his pain medication. I find this entire process to be a complete waste."

The judge looked up to gage a reaction. Both benches were pretty stoic. "However, the facts of this case cannot be ignored. Dr. House, your situation is too troubling for someone who holds people's lives in their hands on a daily basis. Upon reading your medical history though, you really saved yourself by appointing Dr. Chase to be responsible for your care. Up until that point, the tailspin was obvious. So far all evidence points to you following his treatment plan, and the tests submitted since then have proven to me that the goal of lowering your dependence is indeed working. Statements from other members of your team and co-workers have also verified that you have been performing your job well since you started under his care, and incidents like the one presented by the ADA have been avoided."

The judge took another pause, and was almost impressed with the good behavior. She wished everyone had acted like this before they got to her court.

"However, Dr. House, it would be irresponsible of me to dismiss this case without making sure you stay that way. I have sent a recommendation to the DA's office for a deal instead of sending you onto trial. I'm recommending six months probation and 200 hours community service. Also, for the next year, the court will continue to get drug tests and weekly updates on the progress of your care, all under the careful supervision of Dr. Chase. If at anytime we get evidence that you have lapsed, failed to follow the treatment plan, or performed any aspect of the job while experiencing a serious medical problem, the DA's office will be immediately notified."

The judge turned her attention back to the prosecution. "As for you ADA Benson, if you do choose to ignore the recommendation and go to trial, I assure you there won't be enough to make a case. Take what you can get from this now."

Again another pause, and no reaction. "Are there any questions?"

Both sides shook their heads.

She banged the gavel. "Next case."

Howard finally cracked a smile and shook House's hand. "Congratulations. I'll get with the ADA, and we'll go from there."

House was still stone faced, not exactly sure if this was good or not. He silently nodded while glancing over to the prosecution, witnessing a disgraced Tritter in an intense discussion with the ADA before storming out. He hoped that was the last he would see of him.

House's stare was interrupted by Cuddy and Wilson, both wearing huge expressions of relief.

"You see? I told you everything would be okay. No harm done." House said boastfully.

Cuddy lunged toward him, ready to take a swing, but Wilson stopped her. Wilson's outraged expression signaled everyone he was about to go off on one of his trademark rants, but he held back when Chase and Foreman appeared next to him. They both had huge smiles on their faces.

"What are you two so happy about?" House asked. He turned to Chase. "Looks like you're stuck with me."

"Yeah, I was upset about it at first, but then Foreman reminded me of something," Chase replied.

Everyone looked at House to deliver some sort of joke or comment prodding further. House instead grabbed his forehead. "I've got nothing, so I'll just bite. Oh, what did Foreman tell you?"

Chase leaned in closer. "Your ass is mine."

Chase and Foreman walked away, both snickering. "Yeah, I'm sure you're dying for a piece of it too!" House shouted.

Wilson and Cuddy giggled as well. "Come on House," Cuddy said. "Time to get back to work. Looks like you can do your clinic shift today after all."

House followed, grumbling. "I think I'll talk to the ADA. Jail sounds like the better option."

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Chase turned on the light while entering what was now considered his puny little office. Someone even stuck a placard up on the door. He had no idea if that person was serious or not, but it was funny either way considering he never officially laid claim to the psuedo closet. If he knew it was that easy to get a private office, he would have tried that trick years ago. He even thought about bringing in some posters from home to decorate. Australian landscapes would certainly leave no doubt as to whose office it was.

While he slid across the desk top to get behind the desk, he heard a knock on the door frame. It was gentle and apprehensive. "Hi Cameron," he said with his back to her.

She looked around the three bare and closed in walls. "You really should decorate this place. Got any spare posters at home?"

"Yeah, I considered that," Chase replied, turning around to face her.

She responded with a pleasant smile, letting silence hang between them for a strange amount of time. Chase wasn't sure if he should ask what she wanted, but figured she'd get to the point eventually or chicken out.

"I wanted to apologize," Cameron said meekly.

"For what?"

"For giving you a hard time in the clinic and in general. I haven't been very supportive lately, not only of you, but House as well."

"Water under the bridge," Chase replied with forgiveness. "I'd already forgotten about it."

"But I haven't. It was wrong. I didn't give you a chance. You really have made a difference with House."

"Are you admitting that now because the judge said so?" Chase asked. House wasn't the only one who could read Cameron's motives from a mile away.

"No, there have been signs. Ever since the detox, he's been better to work with. He's still a pain in the ass, but his mind has never been better."

Chase dropped his head with a humble smile. "Thanks."

"We miss you too. The workload was already impossible with three. With just the two of us, we can't do anything."

"I'm sure Foreman doesn't agree."

"He won't admit it, but Foreman likes having someone keep him in line, and hasn't been getting it. It's almost been too easy."

Chase laughed, certain that Foreman wasn't thinking that at all. "I'll admit, I miss it too. I told House I wanted to come back, but after the ruling this morning, it looks like that can't happen."

Cameron's face turned inquisitive. "Why not?"

"Conflict of interest."

"Why? Didn't you have to avoid that before because of the issue potentially being raised at the trial? That's no longer a problem."

"What, and give up all this?" Chase joked, looking around at the empty walls of his own little broom closet.

Cameron laughed. "Come on, I'm serious."

Chase scratched the back of his head over the idea. "I'm not sure. I shouldn't be working for him."

"Who says that you have to report to House if you work on the team? Cuddy can still be your boss, unless you have a problem playing both roles."

Chase thought about the idea, changing facial expressions several times, trying to come up with a good argument and couldn't. Cameron did have a point. "You think Cuddy would go for it?"

Cameron smiled in disbelief, floored by the idea that she was coming up with something that Chase hadn't thought of. "It doesn't hurt to ask."

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"You rang?" Chase said, entering the office as requested.

House was less than impressed. "Bad shout-out. You can't use that line unless you're as freakishly tall as Lurch."

"Sorry. I guess I need to study my pop culture better."

"Did you know that Syracuse actually has an actual Department of Pop Culture studies? Where do I get that job?"

Chase laughed. It had been too long since he laughed at one of House's jokes. "So what did you want?"

House pulled out a folder, laying it flat out on the desk, and opened it. "I understand, Dr. Chase, that you have an interest in the vacancy on my team."

"I have to apply for it?"

"I do have a rigorous screening process. I need to be sure you'll be a good fit."

Chase decided to play along and jumped into a mock ready-to-please mode. "I'm a hard worker Dr. House. You won't regret choosing me."

"Funny, that's not what you said the first time I interviewed you."

"You didn't interview me. You hired me as soon as my dad called asking you not to."

House looked off to the side, trying to remember in false fashion such an incident occurring. "Oh yeah, I did do that, didn't I? Sit down, you're getting that interview now."

Chase smiled and took a seat. _This ought to be good._

House took some time to look over Chase's personnel file. "Did you become a doctor to pick up nurses?"

"No."

House scoffed. "Don't lie to me. Someone with your incredible boyish smile and underwear model's body doesn't need this life. You should be on a beach in Bali sipping on Mai Tais and living off the family fortune."

"Did that once. Sunburn from Bali is a bitch. Plus I hate Indonesian food."

House nodded. "Your medical degree is from a third world nation."

"I'm pretty sure Australia's industrialized."

House rolled his eyes. "So is China anymore. See any Chinese on my team?" He fell backward into his chair and crossed his arms, giving Chase a scrutinizing look. "You sure you aren't better suited to be a swimsuit model?"

"Chicks will go for the lab coat over speedo ballhuggers any day."

House smacked himself on the forehead. "That's why I'm never scoring babes. I don't dress the part. Do you have a history of boning co-workers?"

"Yes."

"How was it?"

Chase raised an eyebrow and cracked a wicked smile. "Pretty damn good."

House shuddered at the thought. "I'm sure he was."

House went back to examining the file while Chase fought off snickering. "What other qualifications can you possibly offer me? I already have my token negro and woman. What do I need you for?"

"You don't."

"Come again?"

"You don't need any of us. We're the ones needing you."

House grimaced at the idea. "That's a pretty scary thought. So why should I pick you to need me? As pretty as you are, Cameron is more my type."

"Because I'm going to screw up."

House nodded in agreement. "You look like a wally to me. I think it's the blond hair. What if you're lying and prove to actually be competent at your job?"

"The day I stop messing up, the day I can rely on my own judgment and not need yours, that's the day you can toss me out the door. Until then, I'm the best person for the job."

House leaned forward and folded his arms on the desk, going into his fake sincerity mode. "While you make an enticing argument, I still have a special set of skills in mind for this position. You have to do way more than make mistakes in order to get the job. I already have an arrogant bastard that thinks I'm always wrong. I need someone who is going to kiss my behind. You know, in a non-homoerotic sort of way. Not that there's anything wrong with that."

Chase raised his hands to the back of his head and took in a deep breath. "Hmm, I don't know. I've seen your ass. It's nothing special."

"How about you promise to agree with everything I say?"

"You want a doctor, right? It sounds like you're really looking a puppy. Oh yeah, you've already got one of those with Cameron."

House scrunched his face. "Oooh, a smack down for the kangaroo. I'll let her know you said that so she can kick your girly butt."

Chase flashed another wicked smile. Somehow he liked the picture of that floating in his head.

House took another glance at the desk to go through his imaginary list of interview questions. "How about if I dish out plenty of nasty, gut-wrenching, horrific and completely unfair abuse and you sit there and take it?"

Chase pondered the idea. "Why not? I'm a glutton for punishment."

House took a brief pause to mull over the possibilities, and then shook his head. "Nah, not good enough."

Chase thought through some more ideas. "I can laugh at all your bad jokes. I also might consider fetching you a sandwich once in a while."

"How about you bring in bagels every Friday? Not those wimpy supermarket ones either, but the giant ones from the deli and a huge tub of cream cheese."

"No."

House snapped his fingers. "That's right, cut out of the will. So you must really need this job."

"As much as I need a toothache."

House paused to fight back any laughter that was rising inside him, and went back to business. "So, let me get this straight, you have a questionable foreign medical degree, you hit on co-workers, you love screwing up at your job, and you do all that while taking whatever punishment your misanthropic boss dishes out? Plus you won't buy food?"

Chase nodded. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

House stood up and held out his hand. "Congratulations, you're hired."

Chase shook his hand. "So, when do I start?"

"Check with HR. They'll also give you a locker combination and it's free stethoscope month."

Chase let a snicker burst through that time. He went for the exit, opened the office door and turned around. "Oh, I forgot to mention, you should tell your physician that your pain has decreased. He ought know that he's done a bang up job with your difficult case."

"His overinflated ego can't take it," House replied, rolling his eyes while Chase took the insult with a smile.

"Sadist." Chase said, leaving the office.

"Masochist." House muttered back with a smirk while Chase disappeared from view.

House leaned backward in his chair and put his feet up on the desk, giving his tattered leg a good rub. He thought back to that day in Cuddy's office, when he was pushed into a corner and in desperate response threw Chase into the firing line instead. He subconsciously knew that Chase would fight a battle that wasn't his, despite certain failure, but that wasn't the real reason he was chosen. The only person to correctly guess that reason was Chase himself. Chase was the only doctor he knew that hadn't forgotten the most basic rule of primary care; the best interests of the patient must be paramount.

House chuckled to himself, gloating inside. While the outcome wasn't what he expected, once again, after all was said and done, he could say he was right.

The End

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Epilogue – (This is for angelfirenze. Beware, dark dark humor coming.)

He had just handed over his badge and gun. For the next month, Detective Tritter would cease to exist. He was citizen Tritter instead. Sure, the department gave him tons of latitude with the probe, but whenever things went badly, the scapegoat had to emerge. The lieutenant wasn't big on bungled investigations, even if he spent countless hours of free time doing his civic duty. Where was the appreciation for that?

Tritter now would have the next month to stew over how another addict had screwed him over. How he had to pay for the actions of another scumbag junkie. How he would catch Dr. House in the act the next time. The man will make a mistake. Addicts always do.

All these thoughts swirled madly in his head while he stepped down the precinct stairs and off the curb toward his car. He was too lost in angry thoughts to notice the gigantic moving object barreling toward him at full speed. He didn't know what hit him when the bus made its dramatic impact.

An innocent bystander turned away when the spatter flew just before the corpse hit the ground. "Oh, poor man!" she exclaimed.

"I don't know. This could be a cautionary tale," said a man next to her.

"How so?"

"If he didn't see the bus, what else was he blind to?"

The woman glared at the man with mouth agape, then her eyes went back to the messy accident scene, then back to the man, then back to the scene. When her eyes returned to the man again, she shrugged. "Well, I suppose it's possible he had this coming."

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**a/n: Thanks again everyone for reading. Please watch out sometime after New Years for the sequel to Take The Ducklings Bowling, When You Least Expect It. I promise it will continue in the same tradition of fluff and fun. **


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